Chapter Text
It was a night that bit back, nipping at one's cheeks with a cold rush of wind.
The town of Sugar Springs was deep in the throes of winter, and Chase Hollow reached up to hike his scarf and jacket around his jittering frame as he walked toward the edge of Town Square. Blond hair tickled his cheeks, which along with his nose were chapped and reddened. His eyes were bright with wonder at the sight of snow, red and green decorations, twinkling lights, and Christmas fair stalls around him.
He was alone again, freshly changed into warmer clothes after another heated solo dance session. Stupid Simon had ditched dance practice — again. Some partner he was. They used to dance together more often. But the rhythm was different these days — when he showed up.
Now, Chase was on his way home, but he did enjoy visiting the holiday booths on the way; his mom used to love to take him when he was younger. It was a nostalgic time of year…
He paused at a particular stall, eyeing a display case filled with pies, pastries, and gingerbread cake that could be warmed up and served with mulled cider or wine. His stomach grumbled and he worried his lip as he looked at the vendor, who was flirting with the owner of the neighboring stall. He wore an apron with a bright red 'A' on the front for Allen's Bakery.
“Heyyyy dude,” Chase interrupted. The man broke off his conversation and smiled at his new customer politely. “Is any of this gluten-free by chance?”
The man’s eyebrows quirked, and he responded with a disappointing “Gluten? Never heard of it.”
“UGH,” Chase groaned up to the sky. “You and every baker in this town.” He huffed, a puff of white mist curling from his lips, and thanked the man anyway. Before walking away, he cast another longing look at the surely delicious sweets — shiny with sugared, delicate crusts and smelling of fried goodness as they were made fresh and kept under the heat lamp.
Chase had celiac disease — an autoimmune condition where his body attacked itself when it came into contact with gluten. Wheat, most foods, medications, all good things in the world, you name it — all off-limits. He’d been diagnosed as a kid and had spent years learning to dodge delicious death traps like the one in front of him.
He willed himself not to drool — at least not noticeably so — and contented himself with fishing in the bag slung over his shoulder for a package of gluten-free trail mix. It was of course a consolation prize to the mouthwatering desserts that mocked him so.
A kid nearby eyed the gingerbread. “Hey, kid, stop hogging all the sweets in your head!” Chase snapped — then froze. Wait. Me, not him. He huffed and moved on, the little boy looking at him like he had two heads.
Chase’s feet crunched on white patches in the street, and he attempted not to slip as he focused on tearing open his trail mix. He popped a peanut in his mouth, the saltiness a far cry from cake, and he dodged several fairgoers clogging the path. Before him, a tall shadow flitted behind a hot cocoa stand, and he froze. Maybe it was just a teenager racing past or pulling pranks. Weird.
His mind drifted away from the booths and busied itself with taking in the lights. As they danced across his vision, he imagined them as stage lights — bright and basking him in a glow that made him the center of attention. One day, he'd be a star... if he just kept practicing.
I don’t need Stupid Simon to win the All-Town Tri-County Youth Dance Competition anyway, he thought bitterly. That was the big leagues, and he was not going to miss out on his chance to get scouted and become an idol like Alastair.
Lost in daydreams, he munched on trail mix as Town Square faded behind him. The festive noise gave way to the soft hush of snow and sleeping trees as he cut through the park, and he popped in his earbuds, loading up his favorite Star Brigade playlist. The music began blaring, and as he shuffled home, he found himself humming along — imagining he was on stage with Alastair.
Who was Alastair? Only the biggest and bestest singer in the universe, according to Chase. He was a certified mega-fan of Alastair and the band from which he was the lead singer, Star Brigade. Chase’s room was plastered with Star Brigade posters — mostly of Alastair. But the singer wasn’t just the greatest musician in history to the blond boy — he was also extremely easy on the eyes, in his opinion.
And it was just him and Alastair as he continued to bop his head and walk. Sugar Springs was a small and very safe town; everyone knew everyone — for better or worse — and Chase was certainly old and big enough to fend for himself if he wound up in a dangerous situation, he reasoned.
Then a dark figure rustled through the bushes ahead of him.
And all reason promptly went out the window.
“AHHHHHH!” Chase screamed — in a very manly way of course — and flung his arms up in front of him, his heart and limbs jolting in panic.
Was it a bear? Were there bears in Sugar Springs? He had never seen one, and he didn’t want to now, but he was frozen to the spot. He glanced down and saw his trail mix had gone flying and was scattered all over the ground in front of him, like an inviting appetizer for the bear leading right to him — the main course.
Chase hoped he was too stringy to want to eat.
Eyes wide and chest heaving, Chase tried to calm his pulse as he took out his earpods, strained his eyes, and peered out into the ink-black cropping of trees ahead. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear whispering.
“Who’s there?” Chase called, voice sharper than he meant. No answer. Just a faint blue-green glow flashing through the branches, syncing with his pulse.
Probably nothing. But his feet moved anyway, drawn like a moth. The glow flared, and a figure darted through the trees — lanky, in a hoodie, a bracelet flashing a light that burned his eyes. Then it vanished into a thicket. Chase’s breath hitched.
And suddenly there were brighter flickering lights that danced through the foliage ahead. Tree tops were bathed in dots of color spanning the rainbow — and for a moment the lights became so bright and so numerous that the trees almost seemed swallowed up by them. In fact, Chase had to blink and rub his eyes as he thought he saw one tree disappear and reappear in a flash of light. Perhaps he was hallucinating. Or maybe he overexerted himself today at dance and was just exhausted, and dreams were coming to claim him for sleep in his waking state.
Then he heard more hushed voices, and he decided he was curious to learn more — even if it was all in his mind.
Relieved that he would not become bear food, Chase perked up and attempted to decipher the whispers, but they grew further away. Maybe they hadn’t heard his excessively manly scream — because screw his cousin for calling him a girl when he screamed — and were carrying on with their night. But Chase was curious why someone was in the dense part of the park at night to begin with; what were they doing out here? A secret rave? Summoning Satan? Offering up the gremlin child from next door as a sacrifice to the elder gods? Tempting...
He quietly inched ahead, following the murmurs as they grew louder again. Soon, he could also make out a faint glow that didn’t seem to come from any nearby park or street lights. Creeping ever so slowly and quietly, Chase strained his ears to pick up on the whispers now that he was closer.
“…glitch acquired … can you … next world?” asked a hushed male voice, then suddenly a bright light came and went from up ahead — like a camera flash.
Chase crept around a tree and finally saw the figure. He could barely make him out in the darkness, with only some moonlight from above and distant park lights filtering through the tree leaves illuminating him. But Chase was sure of one thing — he had tall bunny ears.
Must be some headband, Chase rationalized dismissively. What, does he think this is Halloween?
If the figure had been talking to someone, it must’ve been on the phone, as he appeared to be alone. He seemed to be tall, slender, and young — though Chase couldn’t tell quite how old in the dark. The bunny man fiddled with a watch or bracelet of sorts on his wrist, which lit up and illuminated his face. Chase stayed hidden behind the tree trunk and studied him more in the light. Seeing him a bit more clearly, Chase could tell the bunny was around his age — maybe a little older. But no matter how old he was, the bunny get-up was not working for him in Chase’s opinion. Maybe Bunny Guy just liked to dress up and monologue in the woods like a cryptid on a schedule, he mused.
But nothing could prepare Chase for another blinding flash — and it was like reality itself tore apart in front of the bunny. The air hummed, sharp and electric, like before a storm. Branches snapped, leaves scattered, and a tiny blip of light appeared and expanded in mid-air. The light grew quickly, causing a crackling buzz to hit Chase’s ears, and it expanded up into a column with tendrils of visible electric sparks splitting, spitting, and snapping out from its sides. The light pulsed an array of neon colors before expanding horizontally to reveal a flickering, plasma vortex, swirling — blue, green, alive.
Great. Maybe he had encountered a satanic ritual for summoning a demon, after all.
And if one flew out of the hell portal, he'd just drop-kick it. Easy peasy.
Chase gripped a tree, hands shaking. Just the cold — obviously. And he watched as the bunny man then stepped toward the portal and was absorbed into it, disappearing in another flash of light.
“OH MY GOD IS HE DEAD?!” Chase blurted out loud in panic and raced over to the glowing light to investigate. His eardrums pulsed to his heartbeat and he wheezed for a moment from sprinting as he checked the backside of the portal for any sign of the bunny, but he had no luck.
The man had vanished.
“OHHHHHH MY GOD. OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD,” Chase repeated frantically, pacing in tight circles. “Okay, Chasey. It’s fine! Guy in bunny ears eaten by a lightning wormhole. Happens every day. Totally normal.” He bit at his fingernails and kicked at the snow. “Just… need to call the police and tell them a man wearing a bunny outfit got swallowed up by floating lightning and evaporated. No biggie!”
He ran his hand through his hair and chewed on his lip, realizing that sounded insane. It was the type of story his cousin would make fun of him for telling, saying he was having weird dreams again. And if even he wouldn’t believe him, the police sure wouldn’t.
Chase paced in circles, then edged closer to the light and held up his hand to the plasma field. A few inches from touching it directly, strings of electricity danced out from the surface and tickled his palm.
“Woah,” he breathed. His panic calmed as disbelief and wonder took hold in its place. He waved his hand across the surface — never touching it, but close enough for the sparks of light to follow his movement. Something about the light felt warm — familiar, even. Almost like it was waiting for him.
And then he reached out to poke it.
And he too vanished in a bright burst, the portal blinking out of existence shortly after.
And all that was left was the quiet, snow-dusted darkness of the park.