Escape from Kazaar Yard - a dream sequence from the brain of one P.N. Neville.

The old Kazaar farm sat up on a hill over the small farming town of Bysmal, Nebraska. We, the children of the town, had always heard rumors of strange happenings and dark things going on up there at the old Kazaar place. The Kazaars were a family that had been in town since its inception and the generations of Kazaar all lived in that same house. It was a big multi-story house built ages ago, badly in need of repair and a paint job. It looked like your classic scary haunted house, but still livable. Of course there were stories of ghosts and haunts and all the children were frightened of the Kazaar place. The current Kazaar had stopped farming decades ago and had become the local scrap dealer. The large house sat on the corner of the lot with acres of scrap and old junk piled up behind it. It had become known as Kazaar Yard. It was dirty, greasy, and smelled of the decay of time.

I had befriended Jeremiah Kazaar in school, he was in my same class, he also played guitar, and we would often jam together at school. One day he invited me up to his house to hang out, he said his brothers and his parents also played and they had big family jams up at the old house. That sounded great, so I agreed to go over and play some music with his family.

I was greeted at the door by the older brother, Jake. He was high school age and very redneck. The tight ripped up blue jeans, big belt buckle, dirty white t-shirt, and the greasy trucker hat. He instantly gave me a vibe that I didn’t like, it felt very creepy. He pointed inside and said, “Well…get your dumb ass in here,” in his raspy redneck drawl. Jeremiah was at the top of the stairs and waved me to come up. The whole house was stuffed with old ornate furniture and big fancy mirrors. It was a very 19th-century, mansion-like feel. The upstairs was the same, the whole house felt claustrophobic due to all the stuff crammed into every corner.

I walked into a room with a few more people, the three younger brothers and sisters of Jeremiah, and his parents, John and Linda. They were very welcoming and friendly, it was a nice thing to see after greeting Jake at the door and the whole vibe of the house. John asked if I’d like some iced tea and handed me a glass. I gladly accepted and sat down on the floor next to Jeremiah to start a jam. I had only gone through a song or two when I started to feel tired, which soon led to absolute exhaustion. I stood up and got woozy.

“Get him to the basement,” said John in a totally different tone than before. I looked around the room as my vision began to get blurry, I could see all their eyes on me, just staring blankly with no emotion. I felt someone grab me by the back of my shirt and pick me up off the ground, I felt a feeling of weightlessness and everything went black.

I woke up with a heavy weight on top of me, wiggling around and I felt lips kissing my face. Then I felt the stubble of facial hair on my neck. I suddenly realized it was Jake and he was assaulting me while I was passed out. I began to panic, kick and scream for him to get off of me. But he kept pushing me back down and continuing his sickening assault on me. It was vile and gross, I screamed again and saw movement at the door to the room. There were the three younger siblings, just standing there watching with blank expressions on their faces. One slowly sucked his thumb while the others twiddled nervously with their clothing.

“HELP ME!” I screamed at them. The little girl just let out a chortle of laughter, like it was something funny. But I had decided that enough was enough and I managed to get my leg up under Jake and kicked him off of me with all of my might. I was surprisingly powerful, as he fell off the couch and hit the floor clutching his chest in pain. This was my chance, I got up and bolted for the door, the other kids just stood there watching Jake writhe on the floor. I headed into a long corridor where I saw light coming in down at the far end. It led out into the yard, filled with scrap, piles everywhere like a maze. I didn’t know where to go, so I chose a path between the piles and just ran until I came to a clearing that had a couple 1930s Fords sitting in it. I hid between the big rusting hulks, hoping to get my bearings and be safe from that house of horrors. I did a quick self-check to see what damage, if any, had occurred from Jake’s disgusting attack. Good, the sanctity of my butthole was still intact, and I had gotten out of there before he could really get down to cornhaulin’. Which I was thankful for.

Suddenly I heard a voice, it was coming from inside the old car. I creeped up slowly and gazed into the window, there was no one in there, but there was a glow coming from the old car’s radio. The voice became instantly recognizable, it was Jake, somehow coming through the old car’s radio.

“Hellllloooooo little boy, hellooooooo!” he mockingly voiced at me in between fits of evil laughter. “You can’t get away, you’re in the yard now, and once you enter Kazaar Yard, you never get out until you’re under the house!” More mocking laughter filled the air. I jumped up and bolted away from the old cars, still hearing the laughing coming from the radio as I ran through the maze of things. There, down below was a paved road! I had done it, that was the exit, it had to be. Right next door was a small pink house with a car in the driveway. I’m saved! It was such a good feeling. I ran up to the door, knocking loudly and pleading for them to let me in. I found the door unlocked, so I just went in. I needed to find help. The room was dark with dim light coming in through the brown-stained windows. This place looked old and like it hadn’t been lived in for decades. Floral-pattern furniture, green shag carpet, faux wood paneling on the walls, large 1950s console TV in the corner. Yes, this place hadn’t been lived in for a long time.

I walked through the musty living room into the kitchen where I saw a frightening sight. The skeletonized remains of a woman slumped over an old-fashioned sewing machine, covered in cobwebs and rot. Just then, the old pink rotary phone attached to the wall began to ring. I picked it up and a voice came through:

Old Aunt Macy loved to sew
Her husband didn’t, his name was Beau
Beau liked to drink and just as you’d think
He was powerful and vicious as the sea
And now she sews for eternity

Followed by evil laughter. I dropped the phone on the counter, the laughter still coming through. Just then I saw a head sticking up from the stairwell, an old man with white hair and a white mustache. When he knew I saw him, he darted back down the stairwell and you could hear someone crashing around down there. I ran toward the stairs, but the darkness coming from that basement area filled me with dread. I walked slowly down the stairs and peered to the left. A dark hallway filled with old filing cabinets, pipes, old machines, and junk. It looked almost impassable. Then I stopped and listened. You could hear someone breathing down at the end. I called out, but there was no answer. The feeling of dread became overwhelming and I fled from the house. As I ran through the kitchen I heard the voice on the phone tell me to “Watch out for Gregory, he’s even worse than I am!” and the laughter continued.

I saw another house across the street, this time I saw a TV on in the window and I knew someone had to be there. I ran up to the door and again, I found it open, and no one home, but the TV on and loud as can be. It was so distracting. I walked through into the kitchen and found the front clip of an old 1940s pickup truck with the long hood on it. Just there in the middle of the kitchen. I turned the lever and opened the hood. It was a hole that led down to another level. That’s when the voice came over the TV in the living room.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I was you. That’s Larry’s place, you won’t like Larry, but he’ll probably like YOU!” it said in a mocking tone. I didn’t care, I jumped down the hole and landed in a brightly lit workshop, there around the corner was a tall man with grey skin and bright green eyes, chained to the walls and the floor. He lunged at me, but was stopped by the chains. You could see the scars in his flesh from the chains, he had been here for a while.

The radio in the corner suddenly popped on and the voice came through once again. “Say hello, Larry,” as Larry gazed at me. Larry raised his arms and reached for me, as if to say “Help me,” but he was so frightening-looking, could I trust him?

“Whattaya say, kid?” said the voice from the radio, “You gonna trust him? I wouldn’t. But I guess that’s up to you, but for real, I wouldn’t do it.”

I reached up and grabbed a hammer from the tool rack and with a few powerful whacks, I removed the chains from green-eyed Larry. He looked shocked. But without a word he just ran past me and down a hallway. Maybe he knows a way out of this hellhole? So I followed him. The hallway led to a large kitchen with multiple ovens of all different colors. Some had pots boiling on them. There at the counter was an old lady, slowly chopping up food and sliding the contents of her cutting board into the nearest one. She turned to me slowly and smiled,

“You’re right on time! Dinner is almost done!” she said in a happy tone.

That’s when I felt hands grab me, it was Jake, John, and Jeremiah. I was had. They were all laughing and the old lady turned to them and said, “Quick. Get him in the oven. Green number two. Go, now, before he wakes up!” And she opened the door on a large green kitchen oven as they began trying to push me into it. “Come on! Faster,” the old lady yelled as they pushed and pushed on me while I fought back with all my might. So many hands on me, pushing and pulling. I fought hard, I was winning the battle and was moving away from the mouth of the oven when the old lady grabbed a big square of dough off the counter and threw it over my head. I was plunged into blind darkness and felt myself fall backwards. They ripped the dough off my head and plunged me into the oven. The old lady frowned, and said, “Now the biscuits are ruined!” and crammed me into the depths of the oven with a large wooden stick.

“No! Please!” I screamed as I fought with my feet to keep them from sealing the oven door.

Suddenly I felt a wave of peace come over me. Nothing seemed serious anymore. It all just seemed insanely funny.

“It’s too late, Jake,” said the old lady as I rose from the oven. I was bigger, taller, and much stronger now. Nothing seemed to bother me. In fact, I felt and looked like Larry!

With one arm, I picked Jake up and threw him through a wall. The kids and the old lady scattered in different directions down dark hallways and into random rooms. I felt like I had been sleeping for years and just woke up. I felt the strength in me. I was no longer a child, but a big, strong, grey-skinned man with glowing green eyes. I saw in the reflection off the chrome oven door handle that Larry was behind me. I felt his gift, from saving him from his years of bondage in that workshop. It felt good. I had made a friend and he had saved me.

I turned to him to thank him and all he said was, “You’re waking up.”

And I did, in real life, and there was kitty there waiting for me to wake up to get his rubs.

Intense, powerful, scary, gross, exciting, and adventurous all at the same time.

I’m glad I won. I didn’t really want to find out what would have happened if I had stayed in that oven.