{"sf1_id":1689579,"sf2_id":"P1EArXO1","title":"The Leaves of Fall Act 3: Something That Matters (Part 13)","author":"Oliver_Hart","words":1324,"posted_at":"2021-02-26T23:59:25.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Alternate Reality","Anon","Boy","Brother","Bunny","Classroom","Couple","Emo","Fight","Girl","Green text","Greentext","HMOFA","Halloween","Heterosexual","High School","Hmofa/","Human","Kissing","Plot Development","Rabbit","Siblings","Slow burn","Young Romance","anthro/human"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1689579-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-13","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/P1EArXO1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/ed/e4/ede4fd48-f546-494c-abad-e311c0358777","description":"You've never really 'fit in' with the heavily divided Ranchview High School crowd. Jock, Goth, Prep, Cheerleader, Nerd... you were never any of these. But as Halloween approaches, strange things start happening, and a dark ritual begins with the finding of a curious red book. It's a race against time for you and your friends to stop a group of students from ushering in an age of darkness, and to also figure out just what the hell is wrong with that rabbit.  \n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  \n  \nAbout this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.  \n  \nCover: [https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q](https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q)  \nSam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) [https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT](https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT)  \nFan art collection: [https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv](https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv)  \nAccompanying playlist (WIP): [https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410\\_nI-0J](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J)  \nAlternative link: [https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078](https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078)  \nTotal word count: 147,552 words","content":"\\\u003eAnd there he stands, alone in the headlights, tall, cut out of jagged angles, his mouth set in a hard, determined line, amber eyes fixed on Sam\n\n\\\u003eHis body stirs and sways with restlessness and the tell-tale signs of inebriation\n\n\\\u003eJenna gasps and takes a small step backwards, her ears folding submissively against her skull\n\n\\\u003eSam remains frozen, eyes shot wide with something beyond just plain fear\n\n\\\u003e\"Who the fuck are you?\" Mike says, taking a step forward\n\n\\\u003eSam's Dad calmly raises his gun and aims it square into Mike's chest\n\n\\\u003eMike retreats a step backwards, and you can see his knuckles whiten with tension\n\n\\\u003e\"All of you,\" Sam's dad says, his eyes sweeping the assembled group. “Just stay where you are.\"\n\n\\\u003eHe moves closer, heavy work boots crunching the shards of glass and gravel into the cold blacktop\n\n\\\u003eUp this close it's easy to tell just how drunk he is\n\n\\\u003eHis body moves in an almost serpentine pattern, but his bloodshot eyes remain fixed and hard\n\n\\\u003eStaring right at Sam\n\n\\\u003e\"D-Dad?\" Sam sputters as all the color leaves her cheeks in a single moment\n\n\\\u003e\"Shut the fuck up,\" he simmers. “You don't get to call me that. Not ever. Bet you thought you were really brave, or clever, running away like that?\"\n\n\\\u003eYou can see the tears glassing Sam's eyes as she starts to tremble all over\n\n\\\u003e\"I-I'm s-s-s-s-sorry,\" she says, though her apology is poorly received\n\n\\\u003eHer Dad's face twists up into an enraged scowl\n\n\\\u003e\"I know you are, you little twerp. You're always sorry for everything all the time. But you ain't sorry enough, not yet you're not.\"\n\n\\\u003eYour heart takes a leap into your stomach\n\n\\\u003eChrist, whenever someone says 'not yet you're not' it never means anything remotely good\n\n\\\u003eEspecially not now\n\n\\\u003eSam's hands fly to her ears, but she doesn't even have the strength right now to properly grip them\n\n\\\u003eShe just strokes them like a child strokes a toy when they're nervous or scared\n\n\\\u003e\"That's right, squeeze your ears. It ain't gonna do you no good,\" he says, whiskey-rot pouring from his gullet\n\n\\\u003eYou desperately want to snake a hand out and hold onto Sam\n\n\\\u003eInstead your eyes flick towards Sam's Dad\n\n\\\u003eMaybe it's not too late for diplomacy?\n\n\\\u003eAt the very least, you might be able to distract him long enough\n\n\\\u003eYour body goes numb, but you will your mouth to open and your tongue to work\n\n\\\u003eIt's the rudder that steers your small ship into a dangerous hurricane\n\n\\\u003eYou summon a fortifying breath\n\n\\\u003eFull sails ahead\n\n\"It was my idea to rescue her,\" you say. You meet her Dad's gaze\n\n\\\u003eYou see nothing but cold hatred\n\n\\\u003e\"I know it was your idea. You think this stupid cunt could ever work up the guts to do what he did on his own? You don't know how spineless he really is.\" He motions towards Sam\n\n\\\u003eAlright, fuck diplomacy\n\n\\\u003eDiplomacy is the last resort of the weak\n\n\\\u003eYou feel the anger rising in you like a stoked fire, smoldering in the center of your chest\n\n\\\u003eIt burns and races outwards, singing through your nerves and veins like brushfire\n\n“She's stronger than you think she is. Way stronger than you'll ever be.\"\n\n\\\u003eHer Dad's stare pierces you like a crossbow bolt straight to the chest\n\n\\\u003e\"A-A-Anon, p-p-please,\" Sam pleads with you. “D-Don't say a-a-anything.\"\n\n\\\u003eYou breathe hard\n\n\\\u003eYour courage ebbs and flows like a weak tide\n\n\\\u003eIt takes the stars\n\n\\\u003eAnd the light of an unnatural moon\n\n\\\u003eTo whip yourself up into a tsunami\n\n\\\u003eTwo forces — courage and cowardice — rage inside of you\n\n“What's with the bottle? Couldn't face a bunch of teenagers without a little liquid courage, could you?\"\n\n\\\u003eWith that, you know which of the forces is winning\n\n“And that gun. What are you doing with that? You can call Sam spineless all you want, but you're the one hiding behind that soulless piece of shit.\"\n\n\\\u003eThose old devil eyes of his narrow as he draws forth something from his addled memories.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003e“I remember you,\" he says, rather calmly\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eHe takes a massive step forward, his rabbit legs carry him with uneasy grace\n\n\\\u003eYour whole body tenses up\n\n\\\u003eYou might be able to grab the gun\n\n\\\u003eIt's within arms reach\n\n\\\u003eSam's Dad is so close now\n\n\\\u003eYour heart hammers against your ribcage like a war drum\n\n\\\u003eYour arm starts trembl-\n\n\\\u003eThere's an explosion of blood in your mouth as the butt of the pistol crushes the side of your face\n\n\\\u003eYou stumble and nearly fall flat on your stomach, but catch yourself on the pavement, palms pressed into the cold grit\n\n\\\u003ePain throbs behind your eyes like the ringing of a dull and distant bell\n\n\\\u003eYou taste the salt and iron of the blood filling your mouth\n\n\\\u003eYou spit a gob of the acrid fluid onto the blacktop, feeling too dazed to move\n\n\\\u003e\"A-Anon!\" Sam squeals\n\n\\\u003eAnd yet, she's still stationary, pulling at her ears\n\n\\\u003eOnly her worried eyes offer any kind of help\n\n\\\u003eThe coward\n\n\\\u003e\"That's for running me down with your car like some kind of gutless bitch,\" her Dad growls, his voice rugged and sharp\n\n\\\u003eThe sound of the hammer snapping back on the gun freezes you in place\n\n\\\u003e\"I came here tonight to put an end to this rotten bloodline,\" he says, leveling the gun at the side of your head. “You ain't no man, but you sure talk like one.\"\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\\u003eJenna and Alex gasp\n\n\\\u003eYou remain frozen on the ground\n\n\\\u003eThere's a hitch in his chest as his breathing quickens\n\n\\\u003e\"What's a few bodies more?\"\n\n\\\u003eYour eyes slam shut\n\n\\\u003eSo, this is how it ends? Your brains needlessly splattered on some forgotten strip of blacktop?\n\n\\\u003eAll 18 years of a life surmised and put to an end with one errant twitch of a mad rabbit's fingers\n\n\\\u003eTo whatever god is out there, you hope they take you into their pearly gates or walled gardens or whatever for trying to stand up for someone weaker than you\n\n\\\u003eMaybe you'll be reincarnated?\n\n\\\u003eSomewhere, fast approaching on tracks of milled steel, pressing little earthquakes into the ground, a train sings into the night\n\n\\\u003e\"S-Stop!\" Sam commands\n\n\\\u003eYou can hear her dad's breathing slow, the tension in his chest trickling out with a drunken wheeze\n\n\\\u003eYour eyes flick open and you turn your head to look up\n\n\\\u003eSam's shape blocks your view of her Dad\n\n\\\u003eAnd might have blocked the bullet that would have entered your skull and torn a comet's tail through your dreams, memories and personality\n\n\\\u003e\"L-Leave th-them a-alone. I'm the o-one you want,\" she says. “I-I kn-know why yo-you're h-h-here. T-T-T-To take me back h-h-home.\"\n\n\\\u003eShe summons a deep breath from the small well of her courage\n\n\\\u003e\"I-I'll g-g-g-go h-h-home with you if you p-promise to l-l-leave them a-a-alone.\"\n\n\\\u003eHer voice is steadied and measured, and were it not for her stutter, you might have even thought she was…\n\n\\\u003e…Brave\n\n\\\u003eSilence rings louder than a gunshot, except for the distant train whistle that'll soon be passing down the tracks by the church\n\n\\\u003eYou rise to your feet slowly, just in time to see her Father's face twist up with horrible, rib-sucking laughter\n\n\\\u003e\"You think I'm taking you home? Boy, you're not going home tonight.\"\n\n\\\u003eSam forces herself to maintain eye contact with her father\n\n\\\u003e\"I-I'm a g-girl, d-d-dad. I'm n-not Jacob. I-I can't rep-replace your s-s-son.\"\n\n\\\u003eHis laughter stops almost as quick as it started\n\n\\\u003e\"Don't you think I don't know that?\" His voice is a cold whisper that rises into a shout. “YOU CAN'T REPLACE MY SON, BUT YOU SURE AS HELL CAN PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HIM.\"\n\n\\\u003eThe train howls again, growing closer, and that devil smirk spreads across his face\n\n\\\u003e\"Perfect timing,\" he says, sweeping the gun around the group\n\n\\\u003eYou swear that grim, devil smirk is going to be seared into your brain for the rest of your life\n\n\\\u003e“Everyone, down to the tracks,\" he says","series":{"name":"The Leaves of Fall","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1688084-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-12.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1691402-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-14.json"}}