Withing My Heart (Open)

Harris Woodrow, known better to the few friends he had in town as Woody, sat as he did every Saturday morning after a hard night of drinking: with his hat over his eyes in the small jail cell at Yensidia Jail House. This had become a habit with him. He would get drunk on Friday night, so much so that he would spew things that weren’t true. Nathan Scatt, who ran The Alley Cat, would become Scat Cat: a trumpet playing alley cat. Alex Hoodson, who tended the bar, would become Robin Hood: a thieving fox. Even Jack Scully who only came in on occasion would become Jack Skellington: a walking skeleton. Everyone would get annoyed, call in the cops, and he would be carted off. They thought he was crazy but trusted him as a teacher in their schools because they knew he never did any real harm to anyone.

He knew there was something to it, it wasn’t just playing pretend.

As he heard the cell door open, the lanky man stood. He tipped his brown cowboy hat, muttering to himself as he did. As he left, he bumped into someone. “Aw shit! I’m real sorry about that.”

The Alley Cat seemed to have a weekly tradition where a certain customer would come in, get drunk, ramble on as if he were crazy; then get arrested.
Though he wasn't in there every Friday night, Jack Scully had seen enough to know he wasn't the only one who knew Yensidia was where its inhabitants had always lived...

After being in the bar for just a few of those Friday nights, Jack came to realise that 'Woody' as people knew the man, wasn't as crazy as the others thought him. Jack had heard the man going on about how people weren't actually who they appeared to be before he was taken to the jail and after one night where the incident occurred, Jack had decided to go and actually speak to the man, to tell him he wasn't crazy.

Saturday morning, Jack went down to the jailhouse and was standing around, waiting for the man to be released, only to have Woody crash into him while he wasn't paying attention.

"No, it's alright; really." Jack replied after hearing the apology. "Actually I was looking- well, waiting for you..."

"Lookin' fer me?" Woody asked as he raised his hat to look at the man in front of him. He and Jack Skully rarely ever ran in the same circles. While Harris worked at the elementary school teaching children, he had no idea where this man worked. He did know, however, that he was at Belle's quite frequently. "Why would you be waitin' and lookin' fer me? Ain't no one looked for me during the weekends for quite some time. What can I help yeh with?"

"I'm not sure it's something you can help me with exactly; more like I think there's something we should probably talk about." Jack replied, his voice quiet. Last thing he wanted was for someone else to hear and assume they were both insane. "I'm guessing by last night it may interest you anyway..."

Harris raised an eyebrow at the way that Jack worded things. What exactly did he want to talk about? Not many people in town even bothered to give him the time of day anymore. No, he had burned almost all the bridges of friendship that he did have in town. "Well, yeh look like yeh don't want to talk about it here. How about we go to Papa Bears or something?"

Jack shifted nervously, thinking over the idea of Papa Bear's before replying. "Is that place normally busy this early? ...or even open? I'm not normally up this early, I have no idea." He said. "Here's probably not a good place; I mean I doubt they'd appreciate us just standing around in here."

"Pretty sure they're crowded on a Sunday mornin'. Everyone gettin' outta church wants to eat there, spend the time that they need with their families. But I'm not entirely sure about Saturday's." Harris nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't know why Jack Scully wanted to talk to him. He tried to run all the possible scenario's through his head and not one of them was good. "We should go somewhere at least. You got a better idea?"

"No...no good." Jack replied with a shake of his head. "Somewhere quiet would be better, less crowded. Probably best if the others don't hear, I'm not sure how many know..."

He reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck, unsure if he was the only one who knew about their other self or if anyone else would even believe it. He hoped this man would at least.

"We can go back to my home," shrugged Harris, "that way no one but the two of us can be in on the conversation...no one has...has been there in a long time..."