Chapter 1: May 28th.
Chapter Text
May 28th.
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When he woke up he felt much lighter. He was still in the hotel bed but Papa and Hannah were gone. He could hear them in the other room. They were clanging and talking. Laughing.
There was a blanket tucked around him, he pulled it away and swung himself to stand but instead slipped to the ground. He felt wrong again. The sounds from the other room stopped. They had heard him. Oh this sucks.
He got back up before they came in to check on him. He walked himself into the kitchenette, where Stine and Hannah were sitting and eating breakfast. Half way through the door he started feeling lightheaded. He leaned against the door frame. They were looking at him. Slappy's eyes shifted from one to the other. His body felt tingly. Its like it didn't want to hold in place, he was going to fall apart. Stine pulled out a chair.
Slappy grabbed the chair and leaned forward to press against it. Stine watched him.
“Do you want to sit?” he asks. Slappy walks around the chair and climbs onto it. Stine pushes him into the table.
“How are you feeling?” Stine tries. Slappy feels his chest squeeze. He stills his chest. “I don’t know.”
“Do..” Stine glances at Hannah. “..you remember everything that happened?”
Slappy crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the chair. “Are we going back to Stillwater?” Slappy watches Stine's face fall. Hannah's head whips to him and he puts his hand out still.
“ugaugh, yes! I remember everything. Don't worry about me, I'm immortal I guess.” His lisp was more evident than usual. His Ms, Ps, Vs, and Bs coming out awful. Stine's face went back to only mostly concerned. He set his coffee down in front of Slappy and took a hallowed breath. “We are not going back to Oklahoma.”
“Dad! Please, it's not going to make any difference. No one sees him anyway!” Hannah said. Oh now this hurts. His chest twisted. Maybe he would throw up. Slappy picks up the mug. He can feel the warmth in his hands. It felt so much different in his hands, but drinking it was the same.
“Papa ill stay away from the windows. Better ill just stay in my room. Or ill move into the attic. No one will see me in the attic.” Slappy puts the mug back on the table and rests his arms on his knees. “I’m serious, Hannah, you can bring me up CDs.”
“No, listen. No one is…” He looks at Hannah. “I think we need to consider our other options.” Stine says. This is intriguing, Papa had never phrased a move like this before. It perks them both up.
“I think it may be appropriate to consider… a full disclosure.”
Slappy gets up onto his knees. Something in him pounds. “Papa!”
Hannah drops her breakfast back onto the table. “Are you serious?-- Dad!”
Stine leans in closer to his children. “Shh! Now hold on.” He stammers. “We are in a hotel!”
“Are you talking about.. I mean, the whole world?” Hannah leans in closer, lowering her voice”
“Well I was thinking we would start with Loraine, but eventually,” He roughly gestures a circle with his hands. Slappy clambers closer. “Im not saying this is a definite, but it is something I think is now appropriate - for us as a group - to consider… together.” He sets a hand on Slappy's shoulder to push him back down from where he had partially crawled onto the table.
“I need you both to fully think through this decision and help me make a plan. What Slappy did yesterday-” Papa looked at him. His face paled. Slappy's building elation dashed. This was still about yesterday, about him…. And so it should be? And so it should be. What he did was incredible and is worth reverence. He sat back properly into his chair. “What happened to Slappy yesterday,” Stine corrects.”Was not something I had ever considered. We need to look at this at a much longer term.”
“You two will be here forever. Way past me… It will have to happen eventually and I would rather be here to oversee.. the transition.”
“We would televise your memorial.” Slappy says. “Speaking of televise, I think that's what we should do. Me and Hannah can go on TV.”
“No way I'm going on TV!” Hannah spurs.
“Okay, I'll go on TV by myself and tell everyone about my dead sister.”
“You’ve been dead now too idiot!”
“Uh, I wasn't alive to begin with? Also, I’m sorry I don't know why I was being belligerent.”
“No one's going on TV yet, first we need to get out of Texas, get back into a liberal state.” Stine interrupts.
“Could we go back to Delaware?” Hannah suggests.
“Mamas there right now. We could go back to Madison.”
Stine nods. “We still have the house, and Loraine wouldn't have to go back and forth.”
“I don't want this to be a big huge thing. Can’t we just be known, a full disclosure to Madison, or a town like Madison, and it just be known in the town. Let the rest of the world catch up later?”
“Hannah, I think that would work. We can tell Gail, and the school. Slappy, you can come along when I go shopping. We will go to local events “ He takes his mug back from in front of Slappy and turns to put his dishes into the tiny hotel sink. Hannah pushes the her plate away from her.
“You want me to follow you around the shops?”
“You can casually impose yourself. And whatever else you want to do– with considerable use of reason.”
“People are going to think you're an absolute freak.”
“Well that's what we will be. We will be an oddity until we reach acceptance.”
“No, they'll think I'm a trick.”
“An announcement then. Hannah? An announcement?” Stine stands.
Hannah has slumped into her chair. “Everyone is going to read my book.” Stine places a hand on her shoulder. “We can't really get around that.”
“Stine, you'll have to tell Mom.”
“We should do that first.”
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Chapter 2: May 28th II
Notes:
I switch up tense in a portion of this chapter yall. I'm trying some stuff out.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Slappy was right, he would need to call his mother first. It was a due diligence. The part of the better and more adjusted man. If she found out through other family, or forbid - the media, it would be his neglect.
The problem is she is awful. Unendlessly patronizing. He hadn't talked to her in maybe 3 years. It was his last Christmas invite, which he had declined. He is a father to two immortal children, he has to set them up for success.
He settled his children and set them to pack up the hotel room, then slipped out into the stairwell and down to the balcony wrapping the hotel room. It was dawn. He could hear quiet voices. The rail next to him held drying towels. He had seen them on his way in last night. He wants that for his children. Unburdoned. The towels owners didn't worry about them being stolen. His children should have that.
He dialed his mother. It picked up straight away.
“Hello Mom.”
“Robert. What happened?” He could picture her.
“Nothing. I apologise for calling so early.” He kept his voice quiet and stern.
“Well what's going on?”
“I need to tell you something.”
She vocalised an approving sound.
“This is a warning, I am preparing to take an action that will affect you.”
“Robert! No! You are a successful author, I am so-”
“What? Mom,” This was it, her bit, her righteousness. Her - evil. Not even his mother understood him. “I’m not killing myself. I need to…” Warn? That's what he had said. He needs to inform her. “Do you remember Slappy?”
There is a moment of silence. Stine takes himself down to sit on a step. He can hear Hannah talking through the wall.
“Do you remember Slappy Mom?”
“Your dummy?”
“My dummy, yes. Do-”
“If this is about that dummy I'm hanging up.”
“...I have a daughter. And a son.”
“You have a daughter..?” Hooked her.
“Hannah, she's 12. She's.. uh, she's smart, horribly creative and very kind.” He looks down to his arm. “She makes bracelets. She's been writing stories, she's always told them but has only recently begun writing. She.. was born in 1981 and died in 1993. Do you understand?”
“No.”
“She is a ghost. She's from a book. I wrote her.”
“Robert…”
“It's okay Mom, I know this is difficult for you to understand. When I was 14 I found my typewriter in the attic. Do you know who put it there?”
“It was an old house…”
“No one put it there. It was just there. I brought it to my room and I wrote. I wrote a story about a living ventriloquist dummy. That dummy appeared. The typewriter made him real. I had Slappy do things. Every time you saw him somewhere he couldn't be Mom, he was the one who went there. I never moved him.”
“This is ridiculous, what are you trying to tell me?”
“Much later I wrote Hannah. They are my children. I have kept them secret, but it's time they are known. I am forewarning you. I am sending you a photo.”
Stine hung up before she could reply. He muted his phone.
He went through his image gallery. It was mostly screenshots of his lock screen and the model numbers for his audio equipment. He found a picture of Hannah and Slappy he had downloaded from his texts. She was holding him up, completely limp in her arms. She had pulled his hair back into a very tiny pony tail on the top of his head. They were both smiling. He sends it. That's it. That's the first step. Evidence of his horrible secret slipped out of his hands.
Mom will probably swoon over it. Compare Hannah's face to his own. Slappy… she will probably think he is a dummy. He should send her a video. Something with him moving around, talking even. Hannah sends him videos, he should be able to forward one.
A video of him crawling up onto an ottoman to get to a bookshelf. He turns to Hannah and asks why she is taking a photo. Slappy looks different now, he… is softer. He tries to forward it but opens up his files. He emails them to her.
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MAPSCO 2022, Dallas. It came with the rental car. You write out the directions to get onto I-40. There are still many details to work out. Maybe once we get to Virginia you could let Slappy ride in the front. Get pulled over and explain to the officer that he is not a toddler, he is a 32 year old minor. Your not sold on Delaware, but it's not a bad direction. You and Loraine each own a house there, Lorraine's sister is there. Your kids liked it in Madison.
Slappy is on the phone with Loraine. You called her right after Mom, explained what happened yesterday and your decision to let them go public. It was much easier, she was as always, very excited to play support. Not so much about what Slappy did- what happened to Slappy.
“No, I'm fine now. Yeah, but… no I'm okay.” You have him on the phone. He's pacing by the curtain. He's probably going to be mad that you told her. Slappy has a horrible tendency to force balance in his relationships. He's going to think his actions made her feel bad, so he will have to take action to make it up to her. It's ridiculous, but it's your fault. You designed him that way, drilled it into him. Forced him into positions he couldn't get out of any other way.
It's your responsibility to help him. So you keep an eye on him. You're going to break him out of it eventually, his mind is flexible, he is capable of adapting his behavior. He knows your listening. He eyes you.
When he's done with his phone call he crawls into your lap. Pushes your road maps away and rests against your chest. He's really hurting. This is not what you expected. You wrap your arms around him and pull him to your chest. He completely stills. He hasn't done this in a long time.
When you let him back out of the book he and you developed a very physical method of emotional regulation. For nearly 6 months he couldn't do it himself. He had lost all emotional skills in the turmoil, would blow up at everything and panic. He had decided he wanted to be alive, he wanted to make his own decisions and shape into something for himself, be something separate from you. But it caused him a horrible friction.
You had to regulate his emotions for him, or he would explode. He was stuck on that curse, a deep rooted belief that he needed to be evil or he would die. He was so anxious that he would refuse to come into the kitchen, he would stand in the doorway and watch you, avoiding leaning against the doorframe in fear of termites. By the end of the day he would beg you to let him do something evil, then lay still all night watching the clock, waiting to die. You had to force him to think through very basic propositions about life and his basic responsibilities to himself and others. It was awful. But he got through it, rebuilt skills and regained agency. He graduated to only occasionally wanting a hug, and now years on, it was rare.
Maybe he's missing Loraine. This last year he has grown very very attached to her. Oh no, it's because he died. You completely disregarded the context of the conversation. He just had to talk to her about dying.
You don't say anything, he doesn't either. Maybe you should. You don’t have time. You need to get in the car. You can talk to him at the next hotel.
Notes:
Okay. I'm liking this. I think I have a ways to go, but I'm getting back into it.
Your meant to think Stine made a bad judgement about his Mom. The reality is blurry but he seethes in distaste for her. I'm just practicing.I usually don't like reading first person, but I sure do like writing it. I'm not sure, it feels like it can be icky but I'm trying it out.
Let me know what yall think,
Much Love,
Wayville.
Sherbet_official on Chapter 1 Sun 05 Oct 2025 08:00AM UTC
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Wayville on Chapter 1 Mon 06 Oct 2025 02:14AM UTC
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