hi! welcome to my masterlist! I write a lot of different stuff (and also post on AO3 under “toiletfrog”. my current wip is “Anachronism”, which i will be posting on AO3 and on here. requests are open, but i can’t guarantee when i’ll get to them :)
Summary: In 2017, Charlotte Pierce is not exactly thriving. She's reeling from a break-up and trying to move on. When she and her best friend, Julia, drive to the abandoned town of Hawkins, Indiana, Charlotte has two goals: tag some buildings and get over her ex. She certainly didn't expect to fall into the Upside Down and reappear in front of Police Chief Jim Hopper in 1983. Now Charlotte has to blend in until she can get back to her life. And what better way to blend in than to hang out with Eddie Munson and his crew? Oh, and do some major monster slaying along the way.
Word Count: 2k
Content Warning: not edited (please let me know if I should add anything!)
Charlotte wanted to do something nice for Hopper. She had settled in over the weekend, and he had bought her everything she could possibly need. New clothes, a new pair of shoes, toiletries. Her hair was even dyed back to a bright magenta and her nails had a fresh coat of black. Charlotte really wanted to do something nice for Hopper. But instead she ended up burning the eggs.
She wasn’t even sure how she managed to burn them. One second everything was fine, and the next the smoke alarm was blaring. She dropped the spatula on the stove and grabbed one of the towels that Hopper had left on the floor instead of putting into the laundry. She waved it under the smoke alarm.
“What the hell is going on?” Hopper came careening out of his room, his hair still askew.
Charlotte froze and the towel followed its momentum, slapping her arms.
“Eggs?”
A half hour later they were seated at a small diner booth with non-charred eggs in front of them.
“I appreciate the thought, kid,” Hopper said through a mouthful of eggs, “But next time, save us both the trouble and order a pizza.”
“I’ll get better at cooking.”
“You might, but I only have one house.”
“I just,” Charlotte sighed, pushing eggs around on her plate, “I wanted to do something for you.”
Charlotte glanced up to see Hopper’s face soften. He set his silverware down with a clink.
“Kid,” He started, “You don’t need to do anything for me. You don’t owe me anything. I’m taking care of you because that’s the right thing to do, end of story.”
A lump swelled in Charlotte’s throat. Hopper looked at her, blinked, and glanced over at the counter.
“Listen, I’m gonna go chat with a friend. I’ll be gone a few minutes. Keep eating, and let me know if you want more.” He slid out of the booth and ambled up to the counter, leaning over and talking to an older woman with mousy brown hair.
Charlotte took a breath. Another. The lump in her throat started to dissolve. She wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee in front of her, relishing the pricking sensation from the heat.
The diner’s door opened with a small ding and four boys stumbled in. They were loud, jostling each other as they slid into the booth in front of Charlotte’s. She glanced up, catching the eye of one of the boys. Who looked strikingly like the MISSING photo she had seen in 2017.
Younger, definitely. A mop of curly hair that just hit his collar bone, and no bangs. His eyes lit up when his friend made a joke, and his raucous laughter bounced off the walls. He noticed her staring and his smile widened.
“You!” He pointed at Charlotte and scrambled out of his booth to sit across from her, “Your hair is sick. Love the color.”
Charlotte touched her hair, pulling it into view so she could look at the vibrant magenta, “Thanks. I just redyed it yesterday.”
“Eddie. Eddie Munson,” He stuck his hand out across the table, “You are?”
“Charlotte,” She shook Eddie’s hand. It was warm, a little sweaty, “Pierce.”
“Well, Charlotte Pierce, you must be new in town,” Eddie retracted his hand and propped his elbows on the table, “I would have noticed you at school for sure. Not every day you see a girl with pink hair and a sick leather jacket. I’m working on a vest right now. Gonna make it look so sick.”
“I am new. Starting at Hawkins High on Monday.”
“Amazing!” Eddie clapped his hands, “You should totally sit with us.”
He turned around and began to point out his friends.
“Gareth.” A boy with a round face smiled hesitantly and waved. He had a mass of curls, not as wild as Eddie’s.
“Jeff.” Close cropped hair. A flannel dwarfed his frame. He grinned brightly.
“Liam.” Straight, greasy hair that fell into his eyes, which were blocked out by large glasses. He did not smile.
Eddie turned back around and grinned. Charlotte noticed the small amount of eyeliner that was bleeding under his eyes.
“We’re in a band. Pretty cool, huh?”
Charlotte leaned forward, “Hella. What kind of music?”
“Metal. Grunge. Rock. The good stuff.”
“Nope.” Charlotte and Eddie looked up to see Hopper standing in front of the table, his arms crossed, “Outta my seat, kid.”
Eddie’s eyes widened, “Sorry, Chief. I- I didn’t realize—” He scrambled out of the booth and went back to his friends.
“Damn straight. You—” He waved his finger around wildly, in the general direction of Eddie and his friends, “Are trouble. Charlotte doesn’t need trouble. Don’t even think about it.”
Heat crept up Charlotte’s neck. She had been with Hopper for less than a week and he was already more protective than her parents. Scaring away the first friends she could have made. She ducked her head and became very interested in the color of her coffee.
“Well, we were looking for a band name,” Eddie grinned, almost delighted with challenging Hopper’s authority now that he was out of the booth, “But I don’t think ‘Trouble’ has the ring we’re going for.”
Hopper grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “fucking little shit”, but Charlotte chose to ignore that. She looked up past Hopper to see Eddie making faces at her from the other booth. She put a hand up to her mouth, stifling a laugh.
“No,” Hopper pointed at her, “Do not even think about it. Word of the day is ‘low profile’, got it? ‘Trouble’ and ‘Problem’ do not bode well when you’re living in my house.”
“Yes sir,” Charlotte mock-saluted.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, I already know it.”
The waitress swept by and dropped their check on the table. She stopped at Eddie’s and began to take their orders, balancing a tray on her hip.
“Let’s go, Trouble.” Hopper stood up and grabbed the check, taking it to the cashier. Charlotte followed.
Hopper paid swiftly, and turned to walk out the door. Charlotte trailed behind him, catching Eddie’s eye before she walked out. She winked, and wrapped her jacket tighter as the cold breeze hit her.
If Charlotte would have waited a moment longer before walking out, she would have seen Eddie’s eyes widen and Gareth grin and punch him in the shoulder.
--
Charlotte Pierce and Jim Hopper sat in rigid chairs in the Hawkin’s High Superintendent’s Office. Mr. Crosselby sat across from them at his desk, humming lightly to himself and he jotted down notes in a new file reading “Charlotte Anne Pierce”.
Charlotte’s leg bounced rapidly before Hopper placed a firm hand on her knee. She glanced up at him and he gave her a thin-lipped smile. He removed his hand after a moment and Charlotte’s leg still bounced, but much slower.
“Well, Miss Pierce,” Mr. Crosselby set down her file gingerly and interlaced his fingers, “I think we have everything settled. Let’s go over a few points.”
Charlotte swallowed tightly.
“We couldn’t find any records of you in this area. All the way to Indianapolis. Obviously, there’s no way to really search other than calling and calling, and if I’m to be quite frank,” He glanced at Hopper, “We don’t have the resources. I understand you have finished the equivalent of your sophomore year, and your conversations with our teachers here seem to corroborate that. However, this far into the semester it would be extremely difficult to fit you into junior year and catch you up. I recommend either picking up with the sophomore class now, or waiting until next fall and joining us as a junior.”
Charlotte’s mouth dried, “You mean, be a year behind?”
Mr. Crosselby looked at her with sympathy, “I understand if that’s hard to hear. I know the connotation that comes with being held back, but I want to say Miss Pierce, you seem like a bright young lady. This is simply to ease your transition into Hawkins High. Now, if you could give us any indication of a previous school or institution, I’m sure we can reach out and—”
Hopper cut him off, “I think it would be best for Charlotte to begin now and do a partial sophomore year. I’m sure, given the circumstances we talked about on the phone,” He gave the Superintendent a hard look, “We can make an exception for Charlotte’s lack of memory and move forward with no issue.”
Both men looked towards Charlotte.
“It’s your choice, kid,” Hopper put a gentle hand on her shoulder, “But starting halfway through sophomore year will allow you to review and get a handle on life here.”
“I’ll redo sophomore year,” Charlotte replied softly, pinching the skin between her thumb and forefinger.
“Great!” Mr. Crosselby clapped his hands together, “I’ll get your information ready and have everything prepared for your arrival tomorrow. I’ll have a current sophomore show you around then, and get you all set up as well.”
Hopper stood up and shook the superintendent’s hand.
“Been a pleasure, Chief,” Crosselby said.
“Likewise.”
Charlotte stood and followed Hopper out of the office. She kept her gaze on the floor and focused on her breathing. One. Two. Three. One. It wasn’t the end of the world to redo a portion of sophomore year. Hell, she technically wasn’t even born yet, so really she was ahead.
But thinking that didn’t stop the clenching in her gut or the tears pricking her eyes.
“You alright kid?” Hopper glanced back at Charlotte trailing behind him and saw the glisten in her eyes.
“Fuck,” He said, rubbing the back of his head, “I’m sorry if that meeting didn’t go the way you wanted.”
“I just—” Charlotte took a breath and pushed the lump in her throat down. “I feel behind. I feel stupid.”
Hopper opened the door to his car and ushered Charlotte inside before walking around to the driver’s door and getting in himself. He started the car. Buckled. Took a breath.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Hopper started, “You are not stupid. You are not behind. Redoing something doesn’t make you either. School gives you one option for success. And if you don’t follow that path perfectly, you’re labeled as ‘dumb’ or ‘lazy’ or ‘behind’. How long it takes you to do something isn’t what shows your character. It’s your resilience and your attempts to try again. And you, Charlotte,” Hopper takes a breath and faces her, his voice softening, “You’ve been through some shit. Probably a lot I don’t know and that you will never tell me about. And that’s okay. We get up tomorrow and we start again. Keep pushing. Keep going. When we stop is when we really fail.”
Charlotte laughed softly, the lump in her throat dissolving, “Damn, Hopper, you could be an inspirational speaker.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Hopper pulled out of the school parking lot and traversed the back roads to his trailer. Soft rock music played on the radio, crinkling in and out every so often. Charlotte leaned her head against the window, watching the bare trees race by. A chill had settled deep in her bones, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the sudden winter or something else, something sinister. Her gut was leaden. She had made up her mind about two things, however.
One. She was going to get up tomorrow and start sophomore year for the second time. And that was okay.
Two. She was going to keep Eddie Munson from going missing.
Chapter Two: We’re Not in Kansas Anymore, Charlotte
Summary: In 2017, Charlotte Pierce is not exactly thriving. She's reeling from a break-up and trying to move on. When she and her best friend, Julia, drive to the abandoned town of Hawkins, Indiana, Charlotte has two goals: tag some buildings and get over her ex. She certainly didn't expect to fall into the Upside Down and reappear in front of Police Chief Jim Hopper in 1983. Now Charlotte has to blend in until she can get back to her life. And what better way to blend in than to hang out with Eddie Munson and his crew? Oh, and do some major monster slaying along the way.
Word Count: 2k
Content Warning: hospitals, not edited (please let me know if I should add anything!)
Jim Hopper sat in the hospital waiting room, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Powell scowled at him.
“Chief, I don’t think you can smoke in here.”
“Don’t care.”
Frankly, Jim needed that smoke. Needed that cig dangling off his bottom lip. Because now, he had a bigger problem.
Instead of finding Will Byers, they found someone else. A girl. A girl who couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Jim remembered the clenching in his gut when he saw her, dazed and bloody and stumbling towards them. She was so pale. So fucking pale, and part of him couldn’t help but think that she looked like Sarah towards the end.
Maybe that’s why he scooped her up in his arms. Carried her to his car, drove her to the hospital. Maybe that’s why he had been sitting here for the past six hours, waiting on an update from the doctor.
“Chief?”
Jim stood quickly, brushing off his pants and dousing his cigarette on the arm of the chair. A doctor had walked out of the double doors.
“Yeah? How is she?”
Dr. —Jim glanced at her name tag—Greene sighed and looked down at her clipboard, “She’s sleeping. Not by choice.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. The doctor continued.
“She woke up about thirty minutes ago, screaming. Begging for us to find a person called Julia Hampton. When I told her to calm down, that she was in the Hawkins Hospital, well, that set her off even more. I did a quick concussion test, asking her the year and the president. She couldn’t answer, so I told her. Reagan, 1983. She started shouting some… colorful words at me,” Dr. Greene tapped the back of her clipboard.
Powell chuckled, “Spitfire, huh?”
“A nice way to put it,” Dr. Greene answered, “We’re planning on calling child services so they can attempt to find her next of kin. And get her into foster care for the time being.”
“No,” Jim interjected.
“No?” Dr. Greene looked at him. Powell cocked his head.
“Look, that kid is scared. Confused. Putting her in foster care? That isn’t going to solve a thing,” Jim was rambling, words spilling out of his mouth before he could shove them back down his throat, “I’ll take her. She can stay at my place. Until we find next of kin.”
Greene and Powell stared at him.
“Chief,” Dr. Greene started, “I don’t know if that is exactly within the bounds of the rules.”
“This is Hawkins,” Jim asserted, “Nothing ever happens here. Until now. And I’m not sending this kid into foster care. So she’s coming with me. End of story.”
Greene exhaled, “I’ll get the paperwork and call child services so they can transfer her care to you for the time being. You want to go see her?”
“Yeah.”
Dr. Greene motioned for Powell and Jim to follow her, and then walked through the double doors she had come out of.
“Chief,” Powell started, “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“Is your house even child proof? You smoke, you drink, you have lots of women over. You think a kid needs to hear that?”
Jim narrowed his eyes, “She’s easily a teenager. Guarantee she’s either done that or been exposed to it. And I’ll cut down on the women while she’s living with me.”
“Uh-huh,” Powell monotoned, “Sure you will.”
Dr. Greene winded along the hall before stopping in front of a closed door.
“She’s in here,” She motioned, “Let us know when she wakes up. I’ll go give child services a call and get this sorted out.”
Dr. Greene breezed away and Jim opened the door. He and Powell sat in the chairs beside the girl’s bed.
“Jesus,” Powell said, “She looks rough.”
Rough was an understatement. Seeing this girl in the bright, fluorescent lights of a hospital accentuated the purple bags under her eyes, the cuts and scrapes on her face. Her left arm and hand were bandaged in a thick, white linen. Dried blood tinged the edges.
Her hair was tucked to one side on the pillow. It seemed like a nurse had attempted to wash the caked dirt and blood out of it with no avail. It was a faded pink, maybe it had once been dyed purple. Jim couldn’t tell with the dirt mucking it up.
“Chief, I think she’s waking up,” Powell leaned forward.
Her eyes were fluttering. Fingers slightly twitching.
Fluorescent light momentarily blinded Charlotte when she opened her eyes. She groaned, throwing an arm up to block it out.
“Welcome back to the living, kid. Have a nice nap?”
She blinked, lowering her arm, “Frog-man? Waiting at my bedside.”
The man beside Frog-man let out a howling laugh, “Gotta say, Chief, I think Frog-man is my new favorite nickname for you.”
“My name is not Frog-man. It’s Jim Hopper. Chief of Hawkins Police,” Not-Frog-Man-But-Actually-Jim-Hopper scowled.
Hopper. Hoppy. It made sense now.
“Well then,” Charlotte pursed her lips, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Chief Hopper?”
Hopper’s scowl deepened, “What’s your name, kid?”
Ignoring the question. Great.
“Charlotte Pierce.”
“You got any family, Charlotte?”
Charlotte paused. She remembered the doctor telling her it was 1983. And that this was Hawkins. Which the apparent Chief of Police had just confirmed.
Not possible. This had to be a sick joke, a prank. Julia was going to come out any minute and start laughing, asking if the Old Charlotte was back and better than ever.
But Julia couldn't have created that flesh-wall. Julia would never let her get hurt. Julia couldn’t get a bunch of adults on board with a stupid prank to make her best friend smile.
“What year is it?” Charlotte asked.
“1983,” Hopper answered.
“Place?”
“Hawkins, Indiana.”
“Are you fucking with me, Chief Jim Hopper?”
“Are you fucking with me, Charlotte Pierce?”
Hopper and Charlotte locked eyes. Charlotte ran through all the possible answers in her head.
My parents are actually probably children right now, and they didn’t even grow up in Indiana so good fucking luck finding them.
I was born in 2001. Yesterday was 2017. I must have really hit my head, sir, can you direct me to the nearest flesh-wall?
Is that pranked show about to crawl out from under my hospital bed? Can you ask them to hurry up?
“My parents are dead,” Charlotte settled on, “I don’t have any family.”
“What about that name you were shouting? Julia Hampton?”
A boulder settled in Charlotte’s gut. Julia. Julia, who wouldn’t be born for another seventeen years, if Chief Jim Hopper was telling the truth. Julia, who in 2017 was probably freaking out right now.
“Dead.”
“When’d that happen?”
“Recently.”
Hopper paused, looking at Charlotte for a moment. His face slackened. Finally, he said, “Alright. You’re coming home with me.”
“What?” Charlotte fully sat up.
“Kid, your parents are dead, we don’t have a guardian for you. The doctor is contacting social services, but who knows if that will turn anything up. You need a home, a routine. We’ll get you enrolled in school. What year are you?”
“Junior.”
“That’s good, maybe we can contact local school districts and see if any of them have your records.”
Charlotte snorted. Good fucking luck, she wanted to say.
Hopper stood up, “I’ll check with the doctor on social services and discharge papers for you. Powell, keep an eye on her.”
“Hey! I don’t need to be watched!”
Hopper looked an indignant Charlotte up and down, “Yeah. You do.”
He walked out of the room and the door slammed behind him. Charlotte slumped down in her bed, glancing at Powell.
“So are you like his bitch or something?”
“Hey!” Powell leaned forward, “Language.”
“So you are then.”
“Chief is my superior. But I’d like to say we’re also friends.”
“Mmhm.”
“Listen, Charlotte,” Powell said seriously, “I don’t know you or what has happened to you. I can only assume something awful that no one should have to experience. But what I do know—” He pointed at the door “—is that Hopper has a soft spot for kids. He already made up his mind about giving you a place to stay before he walked in this damn door. I wouldn’t have done the same. Not many people would. So lose the attitude and be grateful to the man who has had his heart ripped out one too many times.”
Charlotte glanced at Powell, her cheeks heating.
“You’re not so bad,” She said.
“Wait to make that judgment until Hopper makes me help you with your math homework.”
An hour later, Charlotte had been discharged and was sitting in the front seat of Hopper’s car with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She had on her dirty jeans and a scrub top. Her jacket was crumpled on the floor.
“How far did you get into your Junior year?” Hopper asked, breaking the silence.
“I didn’t. I haven’t started.”
“Jesus, kid, how long have you been on your own?”
Charlotte looked out the window at the bare trees and leaves littering the ground, “What month is it?”
“November.”
“About four months, then, I guess. Feels like less than a day to me.”
Hopper turned down a gravel road, “I’ll give the school a call when we get back to my place. We’ll see what we can do about getting you in.”
“Thanks.”
“In the meantime,” Hopper tapped the wheel, coming to a slow stop and subsequent turn into a drive, “We’ll get you set up in my guest room. Go shopping, get you some clothes, anything else you need.”
Hopper stopped in front of a run down trailer and threw the car into park, “It’s not much but it’s home.”
Charlotte stepped out of the car and the brisk wind hit her face. Her hair blew around—still in chunks due to whatever grime had gotten into it. She grabbed her jacket and shut the car door. Rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment.
Hopper walked around the side of his car and up onto the tiny porch. He jammed a key into the lock and jiggled it around for a moment before the door creaked open. He turned, seeing Charlotte still standing by the car.
“Come on, kid.”
Charlotte walked up and into the trailer. Or, man cave. Boy, did it smell like a bachelor pad. Microwave dinner tins, empty beer bottles, and cigarettes littered the living room. Hopper noticed Charlotte looking around and rubbed the back of his head.
“Not exactly the cleanest person, I guess.”
Charlotte cracked a smile, “Guess you might need a roommate after all. We can make a chore chart.”
“Chore chart? What the hell is a chore chart?”
Charlotte just laughed as Hopper guided her back to the guest bedroom. He opened the door and flicked on the light.
“I’ll let you get settled. I’ll go give the school a call.”
Charlotte barely registered Hopper leaving her. The room before her was reasonably-sized, with a full sized bed crammed in the corner. It had a closet, a dresser, a mirror. It had bare walls. Charlotte walked over the dresser and ran a finger across the surface. Dusty, but not bad. She walked over to the bed and sat down, letting her weight sink in. Letting everything sink in.
She was alone. In 1983. Julia was gone. Her parents were gone. Jen was—well, Jen had been gone before this. She had lost her phone at some point too, so she couldn’t even go back and look at pictures. Would her phone have even worked in 1983? Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. A lump swelled in her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it just choked her instead.
She gasped for breath and a loud, rib-crushing sob escaped her lips. Tears fell down her face and she could taste the salt mixed with snot. Gone. Her life. Her friends. Her family. Everything was gone. Sob. After sob. After sob. At some point, Charlotte had started to hyperventilate.
She just let it loose. Let all her emotions fall out into the dusty room. Wipe her bare.
What she didn’t know was that Hopper was leaning against the wall outside her new room, outside her view.
Summary: In 2017, Charlotte Pierce is not exactly thriving. She's reeling from a break-up and trying to move on. When she and her best friend, Julia, drive to the abandoned town of Hawkins, Indiana, Charlotte has two goals: tag some buildings and get over her ex. She certainly didn't expect to fall into the Upside Down and reappear in front of Police Chief Jim Hopper in 1983. Now Charlotte has to blend in until she can get back to her life. And what better way to blend in than to hang out with Eddie Munson and his crew? Oh, and do some major monster slaying along the way.
Word Count: 2.6k
Content Warning: break-ups, passing out, mentions of blood, not edited (please let me know if I should add anything!)
August 23, 2017
Charlotte Pierce knew it was a bad idea. She felt it in her bones. But Julia had insisted. Julia, with her razor-sharp smile and frizzy hair, had pulled Charlotte into more abandoned places than she could count. But this was different. It was a whole town.
She sat in the passenger seat of Julia’s car, picking at her dark nail polish and humming along to whatever pop song Julia had blasting on the radio.
“It’s called Hawkins.”
“What?” Charlotte lifted her head and glanced at her friend, who was tapping her steering wheel in rhythm.
“The town we’re going to. Hawkins. You haven’t asked about it yet,” Julia replied.
“Sorry. I guess I’ve just been distracted.”
Julia pursed her lips. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“Look, I’m just gonna say it,” She started, “But you haven’t been the same since Jen broke up with you. I get it, first girlfriend and all. But Charlotte, you need to be you again. Experience life. I think… I think you just became what Jen wanted you to be, you know? You stopped listening to that emo shit you call music, stopped dyeing your hair, painting your nails. Hell, that—” Julia pointed to Charlotte’s chipping nail polish, “That is the first time I’ve seen you with nail polish on in six months. And you used to love exploring places with me. So, I guess I’m just trying to get the old Charlotte back, you know?”
Charlotte ran her fingernail along the edge of her thumb’s cuticle. She glanced up at Julia.
“You’re right,” She started, “You’re right. I got sucked into everything Jen liked. I went to all the basketball games she cheered at, I listened to things we always made fun of. I don’t know, I just need junior year to be different. I spent too long last year trying to fit in with Jen and her friends that I lost myself I guess. And then she upgraded to Emma.”
“Hey!” Julia whacked Charlotte in the chest, “that bitch did not ‘upgrade’. You are not a lesser model or whatever the fuck you think. Jen’s new girl just shows how little she valued you and what you liked. Now she’s screwing some girl on the basketball team. So what?”
Julia smacked Charlotte again.
“Hey! That was a boob shot!” Charlotte glared at Julia.
“So what?!”
“So-fucking-what,” Charlotte monotoned back.
“You know what, we’ll work on it.”
Julia glanced down at her google maps and swerved the car onto a gravel path that suddenly appeared out of the trees.
“Hey! What the hell, Julia?”
“Sorry. It’s really secluded. No one has even lived here since, like, the late eighties. Google it!”
Charlotte pulled out her phone and started to flip through articles about Hawkins, Indiana. Abandoned. Extreme natural disasters. Strings of murders, unsolved with one suspect who then went missing.
The town of Hawkins, Indiana was a hub of bad luck in the 1980s. By 1987, the federal government sanctioned a city wide closer and enforced a mandated evacuation. The town has been abandoned since.
“Julien said he went, like, a year ago. And he took two steps in and got the worst vibes. Turned tail and ran.”
If Julia’s brother had left that promptly from Hawkins, Charlotte could only imagine what they were about to walk into.
“So why are we going?” Charlotte asked.
“Experience! Calling the old Charlotte back!”
Charlotte laughed, leaning her head against the window pane. It chilled her cheek.
Maybe, just maybe, this would be good for her. A breath. A chance. She could still see Jen every time she closed her eyes. We just aren’t right for each other. Jen’s dark hair, swished into a ponytail. Jen’s cupid’s bow, tragically soft. Jen pushed up against the lockers after cheer practice—not by Charlotte this time, as they had done so many times before. By Emma.
Charlotte’s stomach twisted. Small tinks hit the underside of the car as gravel spit up from the wheels. Dust coated Julia’s car. She cracked her neck, relishing the small pops that almost fit the beat of the gravel.
“Look!” Julia pointed, “There it is.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. A “Welcome to Hawkins” sign was bent at a 45 degree angle towards the road. Hawkins had been crossed out and HELL had replaced it. Multiple times. HELL was scrawled in different spray paints, different handwritings. HELL was even spray painted across the road, with a large red arrow pointing in the direction Julia and Charlotte were driving.
“Holy shit,” Charlotte remarked, “I guess Julien wasn’t exaggerating, huh?”
“Guess not,” Julia gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, “We’ll drive farther in, until we find a cool building.”
And they did. Charlotte felt the speed of the car dip as Julia weaved around fallen branches, broken glass, and other debris in the road. She glanced out the window and saw a large suitcase, split open with clothes tumbling out. Faded, ripped, moldy. The elements had done their work.
“Here. Hawkins High School,” Julia pulled over into a parking lot, “Sufficiently creepy, but plenty of places to spray paint.”
“I’ll grab it out of the back,” Charlotte stepped out of the car and popped the trunk. She pulled out the duffel bag that housed Julia’s paint can collection and slung it across her shoulder.
“Come on!”
Charlotte rushed to catch up to Julia, who was already half-way to the doors of the school. The bag of paint hit her shoulder blade with every step. When Charlotte finally caught up, Julia was already attempting to jimmy the doors.
“I can’t believe it!” She scowled, pushing on the doors, “Thirty years and no one has bothered to break in here before?”
Charlotte glanced down at the ground, looking for a rock to bust in the glass pane on the door.
“Uh, Julia?”
“Did you find something to break the door?”
“No, but I figured out why people may not have gone in here.” Charlotte pointed at their feet.
Painted in a black, looping scrawl were three lines.
THROUGH ME IS THE WAY TO THE CITY OF WOE
THROUGH ME IS THE WAY TO ETERNAL PAIN
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE
Julia snorted. “Welcoming.”
“That’s literally so creepy. We could just pick a different building?”
“No!” Julia grabbed Charlotte by the shoulders, “We are not picking another building. This is it! Locked, unopened? Weird message in front? Perfect! We’re looking for the old Charlotte, remember? And I bet you we can find her in there.”
Old Charlotte. Pre-Jen Charlotte. Emo Charlotte. Didn’t-Give-A-Fuck-About-The-Rules Charlotte. And-Definitely-Not-Sad-About-Some-Girl-Who-Didn’t-Even-Love-Her Charlotte.
Charlotte picked up a rock and threw it at one of the door’s glass panes. It shattered. The glass fell in with the rock. She pulled off her leather jacket and wrapped it around her hand, using it to knock the rest of the glass. After throwing her jacket back on, Charlotte stuck her hand through the newly open window and pulled the door open.
Julia slowly clapped, “Welcome back, Charlotte. Been a while since I’ve seen you.”
Charlotte flashed a toothy smile, “After you.”
Julia walked through the door and Charlotte followed. She pulled out her phone and flipped on the flashlight.
Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Julia coughed. Charlotte swept the flashlight around. Lockers were open and their contents dumped on the floor. She glanced up at the bulletin board.
MISSING PERSON: EDWARD MUNSON
A boy who couldn’t have been much older than her was grinning in the photo. Thick, curly hair went past his shoulders and he was posing in front of a tree. Red marker had drawn devil horns and a pentagram over the information written below Edward’s photo. The ends of the poster were curling in and yellowed.
“Guess this guy wasn’t popular,” Julia placed her chin on Charlotte’s shoulder, glancing up.
“Understatement of the year.”
“Come on,” Julia grabbed Charlotte’s hand and dragged her down the hall.
Everywhere they stepped, a cloud of dust poofed up in their wake. Charlotte couldn't help but cough a few times. Julia pulled the bag of paint off Charlotte’s shoulder and held it.
“Classroom!” Julia diverted from the hallway and dashed in, “Come on!”
Charlotte turned to walk in, but paused. A soft red light flashed in the corner of her vision. She angled her head, hoping to get a better look. Down at the end of the hall, the light pulsed from another door.
“Hang on Julia, I think I see something.”
“Go ahead, I’m not finished!” Charlotte could hear the soft ssssss of a spray paint can.
She held her phone aloft, washing the hallway in a cool light. The lockers cast long, thinning shadows against the walls. A mass of books, pencils, and ripped paper filled the floor. As she passed one of the open lockers, Charlotte looked up and saw photos stuck to the inside. A young girl, posing with her friends. One picture was of her blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Another was taken in front of the school. Normal life in Hawkins, Indiana. When did everything go so wrong?
The pulsing red caught Charlotte’s attention once more. She followed it to the end of the hall, turning the corner.
“What the—” Charlotte stopped.
A writhing, red wall stood between her and the rest of the hallway. Charlotte walked closer. She swore it was whispering, calling. Charlotte? Chhhharrrlotte. Lottie?
She placed her hand against it, “Hello?”
It squirmed under her touch. Warm. Sticky. Like if a person’s insides were flipped onto the outside, but still moved. Worked. Charlotte’s hand sunk into the wall. It was mesmerizing to watch, her hand melding with the wall. Until something wrapped around it on the other side.
Charlotte screamed. She attempted to pull back, to wrench herself out of the wall. Whatever was grasping her hand tightened, almost cutting off her circulation.
“Julia?! Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Let-The-Fuck-Go!” Charlotte cried, “Julia, help me!”
She planted her feet, trying to rip her arm out of the thing’s grasp.
“Charlotte? Are you okay,” Julia called from down the hall.
“No! Not okay! Something has me, something’s—” Charlotte lost her footing and was pulled through the fleshy wall with a resounding pop.
Wet. She was wet. Cold. In darkness. The pressure on her hand was gone. She pulled it tight to her chest. Frantically, she slid her other hand around on the ground until she found her phone. She turned on the flashlight and shined it around.
It was the school. Sort of. It was darker, the air was thicker. Charlotte faced the flashlight forward and saw a thick, black vine slithering away from her. She gasped, pushing herself back until she hit the flesh-wall. Her hand still ached. Burned.
Slowly, Charlotte stood. She turned towards that flesh wall and slammed against it. It felt like her shoulder hit cement. She screamed.
“No! No-no-no-no-no-no-no!” Charlotte sputtered, “Not happening, this is not happening.”
She slammed against it again. And again. And again. Her shoulder was throbbing. Maybe dislocated. Charlotte wasn’t sure.
“Okay. Okay. Calm down. We’re calming down,” Charlotte took deep, slow breaths, “If I can’t go out the way I came, I just need to find another option.”
She pushed off of the flesh wall she was leaning against and gave it the finger. Then slowly, ever so slowly, she started to walk in the other direction.
Charlotte eventually found another exit out of the school. She gasped in relief. Now she could get to Julia’s car, wait for her, tell her it’s all alright, no need to freak out. Julia was definitely losing her shit right now.
She ran out into the parking lot, looking for Julia’s silver coup. And couldn’t find it. Charlotte scoured the entire parking lot, the area around. Where was Julia’s car?
She couldn’t have left without Charlotte. Julia never left her friends behind, it was a rule. When Charlotte almost got caught by the police their freshman year when they tagged the local Wendy’s, Julia stayed by her side and managed to get them both out without a scratch. Julia was just like that. Loyal.
“Julia? Julia!” Charlotte called, walking around. Her foot hit something.
She looked down. It was one of those weird vines. In fact, those weird vines covered the entire parking lot and even beyond.
“What the hell?” She murmured.
She stepped over one, two, three vines. Her shoulder ached, and her arm was wet. She glanced down and noticed that her skin was ripped to shreds where her hand got grabbed. Blood trickled down her fingers, pooling in her cuticles and dripping off the tips of her nails. Plick. Plick. Plick.
“Keep moving. Keep moving,” She repeated.
Charlotte kept moving for what felt like hours. She made her way out of the school parking lot to the outskirts of town. Towering trees greeted her. She walked into their sanctuary, hoping she would conveniently walk into another flesh wall that would take her home.
There was no such luck. The air was thick with dust particles, and Charlotte felt like she was looking through a shitty Instagram filter at the world. She paused for a moment, the pain in her hand sending bullets up her arm.
Carefully, Charlotte pulled off her leather jacket, hissing in pain when it brushed against her shoulder and hand. She dropped it on the ground and then pulled off her shirt, which left her in a sports bra. In a few deft motions, Charlotte had ripped up her shirt and used it to wrap up her hand and forearm. She slid her jacket back on and left her unused shirt scraps on the forest floor.
Her head was thick and muddled. Every thought moved like syrup. She wiped her eyes and glanced farther into the forest. And that’s when she saw light.
Soft, white light. Not the red that burned down from the sky here. Soft white, coming from between two thick trees that bent towards each other. Charlotte moved, faster than she had the entire time she was wandering through the town. When she got to the trees, she pushed her hand against the bark, stopping for a moment. Her head pounded. She could feel it in her ears, her jaw, her spine.
She braced herself against the tree and moved slowly into the light. It was different than being pulled through the flesh wall. That was forceful, moving a body that didn’t want to go. This was softer. A spin when the music was just right. Natural.
Charlotte lost her grip on the tree for a moment and tumbled through the light. She landed on wet leaves. She blinked. The light was normal, not red. Charlotte glanced back at the trees she had fallen through. There was no more light, white or otherwise. She cautiously stuck her hand between the trees. Nothing. Her hand was just between two trees.
“Will? Will!” Shouts echoed through the woods, “Will?”
Charlotte stood, wobbling for a moment. She didn’t know who the hell Will was, but people calling his name meant that she could get help. Get home.
“Will? Will! Will!”
Charlotte walked towards the voices, leaves crunching under her feet.
“Will?” Charlotte saw the outline of a few people coming into view.
“Help me!” She cried out, her legs buckling underneath her, “Please,” Charlotte’s voice cracked.
“Chief! Chief! I think we’ve got something,” Charlotte glanced up, her vision blurring as two men ran up to her.
“Hey! Kid! You alright?” One of them grabbed her injured arm and she cried out.
“Powell! Jesus, I think she’s hurt,” He said.
Charlotte looked up, blinking hazily, trying to make out the man’s name tag. Hoppy?
“Hey, frog-man,” She slurred, “I’m not feeling so great.”
“What the hell did she say? Frog man?”
Charlotte’s vision went black and her head slammed against the forest floor.
areudirty
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
dailybridgerton
