The Apocalypse Twins (concluded)

Welcome to the fourth issue of Sketchy Scoops!

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Gossip, Hearsay, and Scuttlebutt

What We’re Trying to Pass as Reporting. Not Guaranteed to be Factually Accurate— or even true.

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Banning Ice Cream

Recently,

Vincent Marshall

made a curious post on Notes. He writes:

I have to admit that the statement captured my attention. Why exactly would someone want to ban the frozen treat? Why indeed? The curiosity overwhelmed me and so I asked several of our citizen journalists to look into the matter. They have returned with a tale so shocking that I hesitate to print their claims.

Yet, I am compelled to report their findings. And so, dear readers, I bring to you the unfiltered truth of the matter so you can fully understand why it’s best to avoid Vincent Marshall if he has been digging into a tub of Breyer’s or Ben and Jerry’s.

It started four weeks ago, when Vincent discovered a strange rash on his left forearm after eating half a pint of Black Cherry ice cream. At first, he thought it was a reaction to poison ivy. He’d been out doing yard work earlier that day and that seemed like a plausible explanation, but as the day wore on, the rash spread. Within two hours, it had covered his entire arm and much of his shoulder.

After that it wasn’t long until the urges began. Vincent had never before played the piccolo. He’d never even realized that psychedelic prog-rock/jazz fusion was a thing before that fateful night, but now, he can be heard playing until the small hours of the morning every time he enjoys his favorite dessert.

Piccolo from Wikipedia.

Reports by individuals who have heard the haunting melody have been made from people living as far as fifty miles away. And that distance seems to be growing. We are actively seeking a recording of this song. If you have one, please forward it to us so we can share it with our readers.

Vincent Marshall writes:

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Scoop Reports: The Apocalypse Twins (concluded)

Editor’s Note:

This is the concluding chapter of the Apocalypse Twins. If you missed out on earlier entries, you can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here. Here’s Scoop with the explosive end!

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“Their names are

Shaina Read

and

S.E. Reid

and their collaboration will usher in the apocalypse. You have to stop them!” The priest’s words haunted me, looping around and around my subconscious like an ill-fated melody on an old, scratchy vinyl record.

It was raining when I pulled up to the address the priest had given me for S.E.’s home. I’d learned that the ‘S’ in S.E. Reid stood for Sarah. I had no idea how I was going to convince her to stop what seemed to be a blossoming career working alongside the sister she had lost. The sister she didn’t even know she had.

I’d spent the last few hours reading through both her and Shaina’s posts on Substack. The experience had given me some ideas and I felt like I had a tenuous grasp for the type of people they were. Neither of them seemed likely candidates to become the heralds of the apocalypse.

There are several ways to create dissension between friends. None of them are nice. None of them are really ethical. The easiest method would be to lie to them. Come up with some story to make one party despise the other. Shaina was obviously a Stephen King fan. You don’t start a book club at a specific author unless you’re really devoted to their work. Lying to her about Sarah’s feelings toward King could be an easy solution. An obvious solution, but probably not a lasting solution.

That priest and his request had really placed me in an uncomfortable position. I just couldn’t see a way out of this without having to manipulate these young women. That type of emotional manipulation just didn’t sit right with me.

But, could I risk sharing the truth with them? That was the other thing to consider. What if I was honest with them and they just didn’t believe me or rejected the idea outright. Did I really have the right to gamble with the lives of every living human because of an ethical stance that was important to me?

Why did I let myself get drawn into things like this?

I knocked on the door and Sarah’s husband answered. Nice enough fellow. Named Alex. I’d only just met him, but two things became immediately obvious. He was proud of his Scottish ancestry and, like all Scots, he was fiercely independent.

Turns out they’d been expecting me. I was surprised to see Shaina there as well. That definitely complicated things. She gave me a smile as tight as a piano wire as I stepped into the entry way. The priest must have called ahead. Once more his actions were making my life difficult.

Sarah and Alex welcomed me into their home with a hospitality I wasn’t expecting and, honestly, one that made the news I brought them even more difficult to deliver.

“Thank you,” I said as I took a seat in an overstuffed leather chair by their stone fireplace. “It’s nice to meet all of you. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.”

“What brings you to Snohomish county, Sam?” Alex asked. I found a bleak sort of satisfaction in his capacity to steer the conversation right for the raw, unflinching core of the matter at hand.

“I’m not sure how much Father de Soto has told you, but I’m guessing not that much.” He wanted me to be the grim messenger. “I’ll give it to you straight. Turns out the church has been sitting on a prophecy that foretells the events that lead up to the apocalypse.”

Shaina laughed. “Of course they were.” She leaned back in her chair. Her movement was steeped in a gesture of unconcerned dismissal.

Alex met his wife’s gaze, a silent exchange passed between them. It was one of those quiet dialogues only married couples master. Though wordless, their mutual glance was as clear as a five-alarm bell in the midnight silence. The verdict? This guy is nuts.

“Wait,” I said. “It gets worse.” Before they could respond I continued. “They sent me to speak to you because you’re directly related to the events that will cause the world to end. It sounds silly, but there’s something about the recent partnership that the two of you have formed. This partnership is the very thing that will set the wheels in motion for the events that will start the apocalypse. For the sake of all humanity, you need to stop working together.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Alex leapt to his feet. “This is ridiculous! I will not sit here and let you talk to my wife—or her friend— like that. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”

I remained seated. “Alex, I understand how this sounds.” He towered over me, casting an intimidating shadow that seemed to swallow up the room. “Believe me. I do. If the priest hadn’t shown me the actual prophecies and convinced me the way, I wouldn’t have accepted any of this. There’s more than that though. While I was driving here, I was attacked…”

I was interrupted by a horrible snarling sound outside. Drawn by the guttural symphony, the threesome dashed to the window, their eyes wide with uncertainty. They had to discover what had made the noise, but I knew. The bitter taste of that knowledge had already soured my tongue. The demon had returned.

“It’s a demon,” Shaina said with a tone completely void of all emotion. Credit where it’s due, she didn’t even flinch. It made me wonder if she’d seen something like this before.

Sarah touched her husband’s arm. “We’re going to need rue, sage, and…” she hesitated. “Get the rosemary as well.”

Alex took two steps to a beat-up apothecary cabinet. He opened several of the small wooden drawers and returned with several bundles of herbs. He handed them to Sarah who began to wave some about while placing others at strategic entry points about the room. I had barely registered Sarah’s movements before Alex had drawn a colossal blade, its surface etched with a menagerie of archaic symbols and insignias.

“Who are you people?” I asked incredulously.

“We’re writers,” Sarah said.

“And we’re good at research,” Shaina declared with bravado. Then, she began chanting in what I think may have been Latin. At she spoke the demon wailed in pain. A nimbus of blue light surrounded the shadow being.

Alex nodded to his wife and asked, “Now?”

She drew him into her arms and the two of them exchanged a brief kiss. She gave me a brief look and actually blushed. Then, her gaze returned to her husband and she nodded her head. As he pulled the front door open, she tucked a sprig of Rosemary into his pocket. “For protection,” she said. And then, Alex was running toward the demon with his knife held high.

I found myself in a mute stupor. Such a display of raw courage was like an uncharted territory for me. It was the kind of tale spun out in a fireside myth. Yet, here it was happening before my very eyes.

As Alex charged the beast, the symbols carved into the knife took on the same otherworldly glow as what had surrounded the demon. Alex plunged the blade into the swirling mass of shadow and it erupted into a brilliant flare of light… and just like that, it was gone.

The stench of brimstone filled the small room as Alex shut the door behind him. I hadn’t moved. I could feel my sanity, threadbare and skeptical fraying at the edges as the world around me expanded into a much more dangerous place than the one I thought I understood.

Alex sheathed that machete that he passed off as a knife and wiped his hands. “Now, eh, Sam, what were you saying?”

I forced my mouth to work. “I was saying that it’s about time for me to leave because clearly the three of you have things under control.

S.E. Reid writes:

Shaina Read writes:

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A Note from the Editor

Thanks for reading. I appreciate all of the excitement and encouragement you folks have expressed and sent my way. If you know someone who would enjoy Sketchy Scoops, please tell them about the newsletter. Until next week remember the Citizen Journalist’s creed: If you see something, say something.