Something Across the Water - Horror Short Story

 Two-Sentence Horror Story: Returning from my vacation I heard a “How was it?” from the corner of my apartment. I live alone.

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Warning: THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS ONE MINOR GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE, AS WELL AS SOME (Censored on School Version) PROFANITY AT THE END.  MINOR DRUG + ALCOHOL REFERENCES AT THE BEGINNING.

Funny Bit: I started this story with the name Nathan already chosen. Parents are going to see Nathan Bargatze perform standup in a couple weeks, and I subconsciously added his last name (misspelt) as Bargetzi, as I felt the “main” character needed a last name for the interrogation scene and the ending. 

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*CLICK*

Wed. Nov 1 (10:34 p.m.):

SUBJECT 18: Nathan Bargetzi. For your information, this session IS being recorded. Can you tell us what happened?

I-I don’t really know. Me, Toby, and Josh were just out on the lake, listening to music, and having a few drinks. I’m not g-gonna lie, Toby might’ve had a few too many to drink. He, well, he wasn’t acting quite right. But not drunk, really, m-more so, I don’t know, floaty? He wasn’t really with us, and, well, we hadn’t smoked anything that night. I mean, it was there, but we hadn’t lit any of it up.

Okay, continue. Did Toby have anything earlier in the day?

No, no, Toby, I mean, he wasn’t ever really into, well, smoking. Like, he would have it when he was with us, but he…he never had any when he was by himself, just as a, uh, a social thing. And either way, he was talking to us just fine, laughing and such, then, all of a sudden, he just stood up and looked across the lake.

Tues. Oct 31 (11:36 p.m)

Toby: “He-ey, do you, *cough*, do you guys see that over there?”

Nathan: “No Tobes, what’re you seeing?”

Toby: “Oh, just that girl over there. She’s, uhm, she’s pretty.”

Josh: “What girl, Toby? Is your imaginary girlfriend back again?” *chuckles*

Toby: “No, uh, no Josh, she’s not, and anyway, that was back in the …the 4th-grade man, *cough*, we’re 17 now, I-I ain’t pretended that for years now. Nate, you see her? Across the lake?”

Nathan: “Naw, I don’t, uh, really see anyone. H-ll, I can hardly see across the lake, what’re you seeing?”

Toby: “I already, I already told you both what I’m seeing. You, you should get your d-mn hearing checked Nate. Just, look at her. She’s, so, so pretty.” *steps towards lake*

Nathan: “Tobes, where are you going there bud? We’ve all *hic*, had a bit much to drink, you, you should back away from that pier.”

Josh: “Yeah, it, it ain’t funny no more. And ‘sides that, you, you can’t swim Toby. ‘Member that time I pushed ya in the pool this summer?” *nervous laugh*

Toby: “NO! That’s not, *cough*, that’s not what she’s telling me. She’s telling me to come to ’er *slurring*. And, her, her voice, it’s so beautiful. But her singing, it, it won’t get out of my head. I gotta… I gotta meet her Nate. Why can’t you see her Nate? SHE’S RIGHT THERE D-MN IT!”

Nathan: “TOBY! Get off the f----ing pier! It, it ain’t funny anymore!”

Josh: “Toby, don’t–” *chuckle* “Don’t make me get my g-n out the truuu…ck.” *slumps off*

Nathan: “Josh! Wake up! This ain’t the time to fall asleep!”

Toby: “Josh’ll be fine, Nate, she’s already come to talk, *cough*, talk with him. But, I, I gotta swim to her. She says she’ll guide me. She’ll keep me safe. My god, her voice, it’s, it’s so pretty. Everything about her is so d-mn pretty…”

Wed. Nov 1 (10:42 p.m.)

Nathan! Come back to us, please.

I’m sorry, I-I was just thinking back a bit more. Sorry. I’m here now.

Can you tell us anything about the person you say Toby saw? What did they look like?

I-I’ll try. I don’t remember much, other t-than she, I mean, it. It wasn’t human. There’s no d-mn way that thing was human. I-I remember Toby said she was…

Tues Oct 31 (11:44 p.m.)

Toby: “… she’s got light blonde hair, and those blue, *cough*, blue eyes. They’re, they’re shining, Nate. I g-gotta meet her, I just gotta.”

Nathan: *glances toward the water* “Toby! What the f--k is that? Get the h-ll away from the water. That’s not a p-person, I don’t know what it is, but you gotta get away from it. I-I’m gonna get Josh’s g-n!”

Josh: “Mmm? Don’t, no, Nate. It’sss MY g-n.” *slumps, hard*

Nathan: “Josh! Wake up! T-this ain’t the time to play games. WAKE UP! I’m getting the g-g-n. TOBY, GET BACK FROM THE WATER! It’s gonna grab you!”

Toby: “Nate? What, uh, what am I doing here? *hand grabs his ankle* Sh-t! Help me, Nate! HELP!

Wed. Nov 1 (10:47 p.m.)

What happened then, Nathan?

I dunno really. I ran to grab the g-n from Josh’s truck, and the door wouldn’t open. It never does on that d-mn truck. When I finally jammed it open and turned around Josh, he was, he was dead… throat s-slashed right the f--k open. And then I saw it again. Receding into the water like a f----ing coward. A COWARD, I TELL YOU! It k-lled Josh and Toby, and it just slithered away.

Nathan! We’re going to have to ask you to calm down. We know it’s hard, but just try, please.

Okay. o-okay. I-I’ll try. I grabbed the g-n, and I started shooting at the thing. It didn’t even flinch. It just looked at me, and I saw it. Its reptilian face started to meld into this beautiful girl. Amber eyes, brown hair. I, I looked away, and just got in the truck and drove off. I didn’t know what to do, I mean… Josh was dead, and Toby was dead or dying. I couldn’t do anything about it.

Okay, Nathan. I think you’ve given us all we need. Officer Di’marco will escort you out. We’ll be in touch.

O-okay. Thanks? I guess?

*BANG!*

SUBJECT 18: Nathan Bargetzi. Witness terminated, please retain feedback. 10-4?

10-4. Nathan Bargetzi is terminated. Please correspond.

Okay. Di’marco. Get Units 17-21 out to the lake. Dispose of SUBJECT 18 at the following location…

*CLICK*

Something Across the Water - a short story composed in around an hour. If you don’t know what the profanity is, well, too bad. Thanks for reading.

Work of Schrodinger's Katze

Made On: Monday, Oct 30 - Tuesday, Oct 31 

Final Version + Censored: Nov 1

2023

Interactive Story

 https://vtgrvb22.play.borogove.io/

-Myk

Sestina Poem

 There’s something on the horizon, a storm

is coming. It’s late in the day, a long shadow
is cast. I watch from inside a bird fly.
On the TV there are warnings of a tornado.
Outside it starts to blow. Wind
shakes the leaves from trees. I pull a blanket close.

Danger grows close.
News of the storm
is drowned out by the wind.
Something approaches silently like a shadow.
It formed too quickly to have prepared for the tornado.
Trash is thrown, it seems to fly.

All the animals have ran, birds no longer fly
Danger comes close,
I move downstairs away from the tornado.
I can hear the storm
passing overhead, hiding in the basement’s shadow.
A sound like screaming comes from the wind.

I can feel the house being shaken by the wind.
It’s wet down here, pools of water form and a fly
buzzes by. The dim light bulb cast a yellow shadow.
I huddle in a corner, bringing arms and legs close.
Over the radio the storm
rages on, news is broadcasted about the tornado.

Time passes and the tornado
starts to let up, wind
dies down. I’m in the eye of the storm.
Upstairs, I can see debris fly
in the distance. I close
an opened door, and my home is filled with shadow.

It’s night now, and a single street lamp casts a shadow.
I can no longer see the wall of the tornado.
I go back to the basement, and close
The door behind me. I can hear wind
start to pick back up. The fly
rejoins my company. Hours pass until the end of the storm.

The storm is gone. Shadow
seems to envelope the world. The fly has left with the tornado.
Wind pushes my door, again, close.

Metal

There is a tale of a small town located in the middle of a forest that has been terrorized for hundreds of years. The townsfolk have described the horrifying creature as some form of metal sphere, about three feet in diameter and supernaturally polished. It is said that the being rolls around town bumping into the legs of any unsuspecting victims. Citizens are terrified to leave their homes, only venturing out when only necessary, like mailing a letter or getting a haircut. The ball has been seen rolling down the cobblestone streets, somehow never becoming scratched. There have been stories told about times when people have almost lost their balance after being bumped into. 

The residents call it the “Chrome Devil” and as far as anyone knows it has been around since the beginning of time. Some lunatics who have long lost their minds have suggested that the creature actually doesn’t mean any harm and it technically hasn’t done anything wrong. These people, of course, should not be listened to. There have been efforts in the past to destroy the evil that haunts the village, but to no avail. Spears, pitchforks, knives, swords, and even bullets do no damage, seemingly bouncing off of its reflective metal surface. Currently there seems to be no hope for the residents, especially considering that their community is so isolated.

So far, there have been no attempts to contain the ball, as it is theorized that it is too powerful to be trapped. Many have tried to flee the town, only to find the metal sphere sitting in the middle of the road leading out of the town. Not wanting to hurt its feelings, all have immediately turned around and returned to their homes. No one is quite sure when, if ever, this evil presence will leave their village. In an interview with the local sheriff on what they plan to do to save the residents, he said “Yeah, I’m not really sure. We’ve tried asking it to leave, but it kind of just bumped into us and we got out of there pretty quickly.”

-Myk

Identity

  I’ve always been a charitable man. In fact, I’ve dedicated my life to charity work. I started my own homeless shelter, funded by my own money. I found the joy of giving when I was very young at the public park. I was there with my mother, and I had met another boy there who was all alone. Looking back, it was obvious that he wasn’t well off: his entire body was dirty and there were dark rings under his eyes. At the time I didn’t connect all of the details, but I enjoyed playing with the boy. As we were about to leave, I asked my mother if she had any candy in her purse. She wasn’t sure, but after a bit of digging produced a sucker. I handed it to the boy as we were leaving, and seeing the joy on his face ignited my love for caring for the less fortunate. 

This is why my current predicament is confusing to me. Somehow, I have found myself in the middle of a bank robbery along with a gang of other masked men. I can not remember how I got here, or recall the names of any of the masked men. I was stunned to realize that I was here, and not only that, but I am also pointing the gun in my hands at a defenseless woman. It feels as though I am watching myself from the inside of my own head. I can hear myself shouting orders, and watch myself angrily wave the gun in the air. I have no control over what is happening. I am trapped in my own mind while my body goes on without me, doing everything against what I worked so hard for. I hear a large explosion, and shortly after a couple more masked men come running around the corner, bags of money slung over their shoulders. I watch myself follow them, pile into a van, and go screeching down the road. Helplessly, I watch as I shoot at the cops chasing us, leaning out of a window. I watch chaos unfold through the city as the chase goes on.

Suddenly, I am back at my shelter for the homeless. I am in the kitchen, I have control over myself again. Shocked at the events I had seen unfold through my own eyes, I stumbled over to a chair to sit down. I have no idea if what I saw was real, it had all felt like a horrible nightmare. I reach into my pocket, and a wad of dollar bills suggested the truth.

-Myk

Re-stolen Book and Family Bonding

 Hello! Dear readers, humans, whatever you are, this is my final blog, I have returned for my final act- and I think it's a good one! I am sad there is so much I could talk about right now, but I have settled onto an idea that was given to me/requested to me by my dear friend, Melody. Buutttt... Before I do start my little rambling rampage of stories I want to say I just took this vacation to Disney World with my family it was amazing, I loved it, I got this super cool jacket, and now I'm back to making up two weeks worth of school work with five days left in the semester. It's fine, we're fine, I'm fine. Anywho continuing on I hope you enjoy my (I believe) final post on our blog. 

Idea: The son of a famous author and psychiatrist goes to Barnes and Noble, accidentally steals one of his mother's book copies, and then has a moral dilemma about what to do. (Accidentally not "Accidentally")

"Now, before you say anything- and I mean anything, let me explain. I didn't mean to, I promise. I got home and it was just there, in our book bag. I don't know how alarms didn't sound- but take it. Take it back! It haunts me! Get it away, it taunts me with its knowledge! I don't want it." Miles said as he thrust the book at his mothers and waited for one of them to reprove him for not mentioning the discovery earlier. He closed his eyes waiting to hear if there was a punishment involved with stealing from their favorite bookstore, what if they got banned for life when they returned it? What if his moms wouldn't take him anymore? What if they gossiped over it with their friends at tea? What if they sent him to Juvie for steal- wait... Why were they laughing? 

.    .    .    

    Miles was ecstatic for the weekend, or the rest of the weekend he thought as he slipped on a pair of jeans and wriggled his away into a sweatshirt early Saturday morning. Today was a day like any other weekend, but that's why he loved it. His moms would always ask the night before what he had planned for Saturday and depending on his answer, and theirs, they would all figure out what to do the next day. For a while, he had been embarrassed to admit to his friends that he would rather spend his weekends hanging with his moms than going to some random classmate's party. Until he was informed one day by his closest friends that his mothers were, in fact, awesome. ( So, suck it, Terrance) Last night had continued as usual. Mom had picked him up from school after she had gotten done with a meeting at her publishers, then once they had arrived home he gave a quick hello to Mama, before he swiftly ran upstairs, did some of his homework, and played videogames before supper. Ahh, what a life. Upon arrival at the table, normal conversations were had. 

    How was school, what'd you learn today, how was work, who did you help today, what did you accomplish at the publishers, make any new enemies, see anyone cute, and so on so forth with their regular family banter. Until they got to the weekly conversation about what they wanted to do Saturday. To which Mom quickly responded with the idea of stopping somewhere to get drinks, hanging out at Barnes and Noble for a few hours, maybe less maybe more, they'd see, then just kinda doing whatever for the rest of the day. Whether that be to head home and chillax or to shop around downtown some more to look for mystic doors and secret passageways, aka going to the mall to stare at videogames and looking into random thrift stores for no particular reason. Mama quickly agreed to the idea and they both looked at Miles waiting for his response. 

    "Sure, sounds fun! Like always. " He replied with a smile then they happily continued their dinner in peace. 

    So on this joyous morning Miles' biggest problem was trying to figure out what he wanted as his Starbucks order, he decided to give up on trying to find something new and settled on his usual; An iced chocolate frappuccino with whipped cream and one shot of espresso.  He already knew what his moms would get, Mama would get a honey oat milk frappuccino, and Mom would order a vanilla bean frappuccino. (They were a frappuccino family.) He snatched his satchel from the floor of his closet and bounded down the stairs so he could go find his shoes along with the mess of books, boots, coats, and projects in their entryway. 

    Five minutes later he was standing in the entryway with mom patiently waiting for mama. Eventually, she showed herself and they all walked out to their Ford together. They stopped at Starbuck's and ordered their drinks as previously planned then continued on their merry way to Barnes and Nobles. 

While there they saw the usual. Books upon books with fantastical tales told by creative minds alike in wonder. The three of them loved it and while his mom's were bickering over which ones were the best Miles passed by the table of his mother's books. Each one stacked neatly with one propped on top mocking him that he couldn't read it yet. He stopped, looked around for his mothers, then yoinked the book into his bag to read later, in the corner, while his mother's were off being lovey-dovey, or something like that. He would just start it, not tell them and deposit the book back before tey left-none the wiser. They would not have a reapeat of what happened when he was eight, never again... He continued on his way finding more books to read on their morning's escapade.

Half an hour later he deposited his satchel to Mama while he went to use the restroom. Upon return to his parents his satchel was returned back to him and told they had checked out and gotten what they wanted and they were heading back home. Miles none the wiser walked out with his mother's forgetting about the forbidden book in his bag. 

They returned home and Miles parted ways from his mothers to his room. He threw his satchel on the floor and gasped when he saw the green covered book slide out of his bag, mocking him for it happening again. 

    How in the everloving crap did it happen again!? He was going to cry. He was a fourteen year old, and he was going to ball his eyes out, because it happened again. He stole his mom's book. Again!! That was the moment he was reminded of when he was eight. When he was younger, stupider, and had no clue what anything was. He had grabbed the book without thinking, knowing that it was mom's book. Thinking that's her book why is it here? And cradling it into his arms until they left, until he had gotten home and realized the book he was clinging to was not his beloved Pinkalicious, but mom's book. One that he was not supposed to have, nor read, for years to come. It was for teenagers, and even then there were warnings of reading it. Of content for older teens, a bit more mature, but not explicit. When he was younger he'd run downstairs crying his eyes out, begging for his mom's to not send him away for taking it. Saying he didn't mean to and they can have it back, he didn't want it. They did not laugh when it happened. Thye just smiled, and said it was okay, accidents happen and he didn't know any better. Besides they could return it and explain the situation, problem solved. That night had ended with them cuddled up on the couch watching movies together to calm him down. It was one of the scariest experiences of his childhood, anxiety at it's finest. 

He grabbed the book and slowly trudged his way downstairs to where his moms were talking in the kitchen. The did not turn to greet him when he arrived, but continued their conversation over which anime characters were amazingly powerful but overly stupid. He was not surrprised with thic conversation one bit. He spoke up. 

"Mom, Mama, um... can we talk for a sec?" Both women turned their chairs to look at their son, slightly concerned with his quiet voice. 

"Yeah hun, what's up?" Mom said sweetly.

.    .    .    

And that's where they were now. Miles was standing in the kitchen worried once more in his not even decade and a half of living if he would be sent to juvie for stealing the same book. Why was it this book? Stupid Marcus, and his stupid story. He pouted. 

Eventually his mothers stopped laughing with a smile, taking the book back and flipping through the pages.

"Oh hunny, we're sorry. You didn't take the book, don't worry." Mama said letting out one fianl chuckle. 

"Yeah, sorry we thought we put that in our bag, not back in your satchel. It was a bit of a surprise." Mom said wiping tears out of her eyes. " When you left for the bathroom we checked out adn checked your satchel like always. Cause we didn't want a repeat of when you were eight. It's been six years it's not heppening again on our watch. Anyways, mama oppened your satchel and saw it and we decided you were old enough, you can read it now.

     Now, I know what you're thinking." Mom stopped maing a funny voice. "We literally own the book series, you have so many copies, why would you buy this one when you could give me one from the house?" Ahe stopped with the voice. "We thought you grabbed it to read it today, you picked it, why not just give you this one for the memories, not just a randpm one off of my endless shelves of extras? Tha's why. We emant to put it back into our bag and give it to you later, but i guess we forgot in our scramble to go." She laughed at their mistake. "We're sorry, please don't be too upset."

"Yes, please don't be too upset, bud. We thought you'd be excited since you'd already grabbed the book! We didn't mean to worry you again. So just breathe it's all good, okay?" Mama smiled at him. 

"It-it's mine? I- I can read it? Are you sure?" He asked suspiciously. 

"Yep, we'll see how this one goes- after that one the series takes some turns, so we're seeing how you handle this one, then we'll go from there. Okay? So for now enjoy your book, tell me if you like it, you know I love to hear tyour reviews little one." Mom smiled at ruffled his hair up then walked out of their kitchen, disappearing down the hallway. 

"If you need to talk afterwards, we can. It's a bit much at some points, okay? I love you, son." Mama gave hima quick hug and followed her wife out of the kitchen.

    Half an hour later Miles was abck in his room pacing back and forth whether he wanted to wait for the perfect moment to start the book. Was there a feeling he would just have? So he knew it was time? What if he didn't like it and everything happened for nothing? What would he tell mom? OH my gsoh his mom would despise hi- no. No. It would be fine. He loved all of his mom's books. It would be fine.  So finally after 14 years of waiting he sat on his bed in his room, curled up with balnkets and hot apple cider, and opened up the book. 

He whispered to himself, " The story of MLN. Chapter one; In Which We're Thrown Into the Story." He laughed and continued on excited for the wonders ahead. 

Well, there you have it! Thank-you for sticking with me through all of my randomness this semester! I hope you've enjoyed my ramblings and my wonders and my magic. ;) I will miss writing here, who knows maybe one day I'll infiltrate the wbsite and write again! mwa hahahaha *cue evil laughter* Anyways thanks again for letting me share my thoughts and stories here! Now I must go before my computer dies, but ,as always, stay MAGICAL!

~Ms. Magic~

P.S I definetely didn't almost name this Oops I did it again, no not at all. Okay bye! :)

The Cellar (Remastered)

 “Hazel, why are we going into the cellar?” seventeen-year-old Jared Lohst asked tentatively, looking down into the old, murky cellar and then back at the dark-haired girl in front of him. Hazel turned around, a wide smile stretched across her face. Her silvery gray eyes seemed to shine with excitement. “I need to show you what I’ve been working on! You’re gonna love it!” she squealed, pushing the smaller boy down the cracked stone steps. Jared placed his hands on the icy walls, trying to regain his balance. He watched Hazel step in front of him, patiently waiting. “I swear to God Hazel if you show me more dead animals you stitched together I’m going to kill you,” Jared mumbled, following Hazel deeper into the sunless cellar. Hazel looked back at him, making sure he was following. “I can assure you it isn’t another stitched-up animal,” Hazel replied, humming a familiar tune. Jared had heard that tune so many times, for almost 12 years now, but still didn’t know what song his friend was humming. Hazel would always hum that same tune, mostly while she worked on whatever new horrific experiment she would consider her newest masterpiece. 

Jared had gotten used to all the disturbing things Hazel has done and created. It didn’t scare him anymore- in fact, it never did, and he had no idea why. He guessed it was because Hazel was his first-ever friend and the first person he’s ever interacted with besides his family. Being 2 years older than him, Jared just assumed that Hazel knew what she was doing. For so many years, he thought that the unsettling things Hazel did were normal. It wasn’t until almost 10 years later, when he met Noah, that he realized that was far from true. She constantly tortured anything that moved, performing “experiments” on them. These experiments mainly consisted of removing limbs, tearing out organs, locking them in freezers or trash bags, burning them, feeding them poisonous objects, and stitching up two or even more creatures together, sometimes even alive, and seeing how long the forced fusion could live for. Jared never took part in doing the twisted experiments, but he did watch them, sometimes even forced to be Hazel’s assistant. 

The brunette continued walking, trying to focus on better memories. He smiled to himself, remembering that in a couple of months, he’d get to see Noah again. Noah was the complete opposite of Hazel. Jared considered him as a “normal” human being. Unlike Hazel, Noah had lots of friends, almost perfect grades, and had a huge soft spot for animals. He knew a little bit about almost everything and was highly curious as well, as he would come up with questions and topics that Jared had never thought of, and those were only some of the things that Jared admired about him. It had been almost 5 months since they’d seen each other since Noah had just recently graduated and was now busy with college. They did, however, stay in touch and would write emails to each other every so often. 

Eventually, the two teens reached the bottom of the stairs and were now in the large underground room. A musty, old smell floated around them. Jared coughed, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, and pulled out his inhaler, using it quickly. Hazel turned around once again. “You ok?” she questioned, a hint of worry in her voice. Jared nodded, clearing his throat. Hazel smiled and gestured to him to keep following. They kept walking, stopping once they reached a rusted metal door. Hazel paused in front of it and turned to Jared. “I want to show you something, Jared. I’ve been working on it for quite a long time, and I wanted you to be the first one to see it!” she smiled at Jared again and he awkwardly smiled back, wondering what kind of horror would be behind the door. A present? He watched Hazel push open the door, allowing him to walk inside. Jared looked around, staring down the dark tunnels. He didn’t hear Hazel lock the door behind them.

“Wow,” Jared whispered, squinting his eyes. “It’s really dark down here.” Hazel stepped beside him. “Well, of course! It has to be! It’s so we don’t disturb them.” Hazel grabbed Jared’s arm, leading him down one of the tunnels. “Now let’s go!” Jared hesitantly followed, letting Hazel lead the way. “Disturb.. who?” he asked, staring at the girl in front of him. Hazel didn’t answer, continuing to drag him down into the dusky underpass. The musty smell in the air slowly faded, being replaced by something smelling even more unpleasant. The further and further they walked, the stronger the putrid smell became. Jared gagged, covering his nose. The smell was almost unbearable. “Hey!” Jared snapped. “You told me you weren’t going to show me a dead ani-” a fit of coughs cut him off and he reached for his inhaler again, desperately trying not to breathe in the pungent odor. He shoved his inhaler back into his pocket, feeling Hazel let go of his arm. She had stopped.

Hazel turned around, her deep silver eyes glowed in the darkness. Jared tried closing his eyes, not wanting to look at the other pair, but felt unable to escape their command. Hazel looked away, her eyes now focusing on an object at the end of the tunnel. Jared walked closer to her, trying not to look at the object, but curiosity got the best of him and he slowly lifted his eyes off the ground, feeling as if his head was being titled up by a nonexistent force. Once his eyes focused on the object in front of him, he froze, falling to his knees in disbelief. Hazel sat down beside him, putting an arm around him comfortingly. “I know you two were very close. That’s why I wanted you to be the first to see it!” Jared felt his heart break into a million little pieces. “No..” he trembled, his whole body paralyzed with fear. “N-Noah..?”

The blonde-haired boy didn’t answer as he stared lifelessly at Jared, his left eye being nothing but an empty socket. There was a look of terror and indescribable agony written across his once lively face. Noah was so pale that his skin was almost see-through, little worms and other tiny insects visible underneath the skin. His back was bent at an impossible angle, his ribs tearing out from his sides. Burn marks were scattered all over his body, worms, and maggots crawling out of the charred patches of skin. His mouth was opened slightly, hundreds of blisters lining his cheeks, throat, and tongue. Streaks of blood and pus were leaking from his nose and mouth, leaving trails of red and yellow. Hazel clapped her hands in excitement. “Isn’t this wonderful! The little ones have hatched!” She then focused her eyes on Noah, pouting. “He sadly didn’t make it throughout college after all, but hey, it was a perfect explanation for his disappearance, and it made it easier for me to send those emails to you!” 

Jared’s breath grew heavier as he remembered the emails. He remembered everything, how excited Noah was to start college, how he remembered being so proud of him, how Noah told him that Hazel invited him over the day before he left, and the promise that they’d see each other again- it was all too much. Jared felt the hot tears fall down the sides of his face and he looked back at Noah, whose arm now seemed to twitch. Jared stared at it for a second and reached for it. As he did, parts of the skin tore open, unspecified bugs flying out and onto the ceiling, burying themselves deep in the alcoves above. 

Jared let out a small scream, his breath quickening. He stumbled back, frantically trying to wipe his eyes. Despite his vision being blurred with tears, he stood up and ran, knowing if he could just escape the cellar he’d be free, and able to tell everyone what had happened, he’d save Noah, he’d at least do.. something. He continued running, having no idea where he was going. He briefly considered hiding, looking around for any spots Hazel might overlook. He suddenly yelped, feeling a sharp pain in his lower back. He turned around, seeing a shadowy figure with a long, emptied syringe in its hands. Adrenaline filled his body as he flung himself at the figure, pushing it down. He turned around, running as fast as his legs could carry him. His vision blurred once again, and every footstep felt heavy, like he was sinking into the ground. Jared reached the rusted door once again. Everything was spinning. He felt around for the door handle, for his vision was nearly gone by now. He could feel the figure behind him, looming closer and closer by every second. The last thing Jared remembered was falling hard, face-first, right onto the cold, damp cellar floor. 

Jared awoke, his eyes fluttering as he tried to focus on his surroundings, allowing them to adjust to the dim light. He gasped for air, struggling to breathe. There was a sharp pain that started in his head, before splitting throughout his entire body. A large cut lined the middle of his forehead, stretching all the way down to his brow. Warm blood leaked down his face at an alarming rate. He shut his eyes, groaning. His head felt like it was slowly being torn open. Jared felt nothing but pain at this point. He felt something being placed on his forehead, eventually hearing Hazel’s voice from the side of him. The cool cloth soothed his head pain for a couple of seconds but the intolerable aching soon returned. Hazel then came into view, a small scalpel and an unidentifiable object in her hands. 

A wave of panic rushed over Jared as he struggled, realizing he couldn’t feel anything below his ribcage. He looked at his legs, trying to sit up, but there was absolutely no response. No feeling. Hazel gave him an apologetic look. “This isn’t normally how I perform this, but I couldn’t have you running away again. But hey, at least you can still feel your upper body.” She paused, gently placing her hand on his forehead. “The whole cracking your head open thing wasn’t supposed to happen either, but I think I can make it work. I think it’s for the better. Now I can see how long they can live in a human head! I was originally only gonna put them in your intestines and lungs, but now I have a third option! Isn’t this exciting!” her smile grew even wider, eyes practically shining through the darkness. 

Jared’s voice broke, more tears streaming down his face. “Now..” Hazel spoke, setting down the scalpel and placing the object down on the middle of Jared’s stomach. The object was now within Jared’s field of vision and he could see that the item was some sort of metal cube. He moved his eyes towards Hazel as she continued speaking. “This procedure seems to work the best when the ribs are broken.” And just as those words escaped her lips, the metallic cube twitched slightly. Three metal rods began poking out of each side, each of them having a sharp chain at the end. Before Jared could process what was happening, the rods hummed with life, spinning around in opposite directions, twisting themselves tightly around their victim. He let out a blood-curdling scream that was followed by a sickening crunching noise. The chains untwisted, the rods retreating into their block-shaped home. His screams faded into a quiet, slow rattle of breaths. Jared’s eyes glazed over once more, the tears now falling freely, mixing with the crimson blood that now almost covered the entirety of his face. 

Hazel slowly placed the scalpel down on his stomach. She looked up at him, taking his staring as a question. “Alright, on to step two! I’m now going to be placing some of the eggs in your intestines,” she answered, frowning at the look on Jared’s face. “Hey, chill out, okay? It’s not like you’re gonna be able to feel anything. When I did this to Noah, he was fully awake! Sure, I had to break his spine for him to stay still, but he didn’t completely give up like you are! It’s kind of pathetic.” She smiled again, grabbing a small bucket filled with an unknown substance and setting it beside her. “..Hazel..?” Jared croaked, trying his best to look up. “Yes?” She answered, not looking at Jared, for her eyes were fixed on the scalpel, as she was carefully checking the blade. “I wanna... I wanna go home..” Hazel returned the sharp object back to Jared’s stomach once again, and nodded. “I get that. Sometimes I feel that way too. Sometimes I just want to forget about my responsibilities and go home.’’ She made eye contact with the boy once again. “But we can’t always get what we want. Can we?” Jared squirmed, watching as Hazel slowly pressed the blade down, seeing it effortlessly cut through his skin and flesh. He couldn’t feel a thing. He tried looking away, but it was like the invisible force was back, holding his head in place, making him watch as Hazel successfully opened his stomach, his bloody organs fully visible now. Hazel continued cutting. She had done this an innumerable amount of times, she knew exactly how and where to cut. Jared felt himself passing out, his vision growing foggy. Hazel reached into his stomach, feeling the warm bloody innards, finding the perfect spot to place the eggs. The last thing Jared heard before completely blacking out was that same tune he had listened to countless times. Hazel continued humming, smiling to herself as she stitched the green-eyed boy back up, getting ready to continue to step three.

Deadweight. That’s what Jared’s body felt like as his mind fell back into consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes, desperately hoping he had just woken up from a nightmare. Every inch of his body rived in agony. He took a breath, immediately wincing as intense pain radiated through his left side. His lungs felt as if they had been ripped apart, the pain worsening with every breath. His throat stung horribly from all the screaming and crying. He coughed, striving to get rid of the feeling of bugs crawling up and around his throat. The familiar suffocating smell hit his nostrils once again. He felt his stomach turn, and he violently threw up all over himself, seeing small black dots crawling through the vomit. His back laid against the stone wall, he stared at his legs as they sat helplessly on the dark stone floor. There was, once again, no response.

 He felt the insects crawling in and out of the cut on his forehead, for his head was now the only part of his body that wasn’t completely numb. The throbbing pain in his forehead started once again, but this time, he kept his eyes open. It was dark, but across the tunnel from him, he could make out Noah’s rotting body. The body was nothing but a living colony of crawling larvae now. He couldn’t watch. Jared coughed again, looking down at the lines of messy stitches covering his stomach and chest. He could feel them crawling inside of him, burying themselves deeper into his gut. Jared returned his gaze back to the decaying body of Noah and sniffled, crying silently in the dark, trying to cling to the hope of them seeing each other again. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, voice breaking. ‘I’m so sorry that I didn’t… that I never had the chance to warn you..” 

-Allitini

Chapter One

August 14th, 2017 

7:34 AM 

Breathe Jared. Just freaking breathe.  I look up at the tar-black sky, gray clouds surrounding the empty void.

Crystalline drops splatter onto the smooth white pavement, causing it to darken. 

Clinging onto the small stack of textbooks in my arms, I continue to run. 

Why didn’t you put them into your bag?

The frigid wind stings, blowing tauntingly across my face, viciously tearing into my skin. 

Why didn’t you put up your hood?

Butterflies fly out of my stomach and crawl up my throat as the grayed red bricked building comes into my view. I rummage through my pocket, my hand brushing against the smooth rectangular card.

A bolt of lightning flashes through the sky, seeming to light up the old weather beaten school.

My hands shake as I step closer, reaching my arm out towards the long silver handle. 

I shiver as my skin makes contact with the metal, I take a breath and push the handle down, successfully opening the door. 

I step through the school’s entryway, swiping my student ID card to open the second door. 

As I walk in I hear the secretary talking to a teacher. Both of them begin to laugh. 

I feel my body tense up. 

They’re laughing at you.

 

What could I have done wrong? I just walked in. 

“Yes,” a woman chuckled. “Such great weather for the first day back.” 

I enter the hallway, trying to draw the least amount of attention to myself as possible.This plan immediately fails as my wet shoe makes one of those annoying squeaking sounds. 

Picking up my pace, I feel the butterflies flying around in my stomach, begging to be released. 

The newly recruited freshmen are all packed next to the lockers, gossiping about things that have happened in the summer. It’s nothing of my concern. 

I glue my eyes to the floor, hoping that nobody is looking at me. 

As I approach the familiar hallway bathroom, I finally look up. I lean against the heavy door, pushing it open. Normally no one uses the hallway bathroom, but today is just my luck. 

The bathroom is full. People everywhere. 

My hands begin to twitch, but I ignore it, mustering up the courage to walk up to the sinks. I silently look at my reflection through the fingerprinted glass. It’s part of my normal routine to do an appearance check before every class. 

It’s better to know if something is wrong with you first, then to have someone point it out in front of everyone later. I’ve been doing so many apperence checks lately, and with every new one I get even more and more unattractive. If that was even possible. 

My face is an extremely pale color that makes me look like I’m constantly sick. It makes my freckles pop out a lot more as well, and I have way too many freckles. Like it’s so bad that it could probably trigger someone’s trypophobia. 

My hair is drenched with icy cold water, turning my normally auburn hair into a greasy black color. The scalp is incredibly visible, showing every individual how thin my hair is. Messily hanging in front of my eyes are my bangs, which are dripping from the rain. Mom used to be a hairdresser and always tells me to get the hair out of my eyes. Even if I try it always returns to that same spot. 

Next up is my mouth. Ew. My lips are very dry and you can see my bite marks. Biting my lips is a horrible habit of mine- Speaking of teeth however.. Mine are disgustingly crooked, and I was also blessed with a huge overbite. Thank you, God, really appreciate it. 

Mom refuses to let me get braces, telling me that I don’t need them even though the dentist said otherwise. But that’s just how mom is. She says things like braces and glasses are just reminders of a person’s imperfections.

Height is the thing that most people point out. Being exactly 5 feet tall, I am quite the lady’s man. My experience with girls is completely nonexistent. No girl wants to be with a guy who’s shorter than her, it’s just common knowledge. So I’m destined to die alone. Such a fantastic feeling. It really sucks being premature. 

A repeated banging sound from behind followed by a loud thundering voice pulls me back into the real world. “Oi! Who’s in there?” Anyone in the entire school could recognize that voice. Leif Falla. You either hated or loved him, there's no in-between. 

He continues the charade, still striking the stall door with his fist, amusement pictured on his lengthy face. I take back what I said. There is an in-between because I still can’t figure out how I feel about him. Envy is one way to put it, I would do anything to have his jawline, his facial structure, his muscles … I’d do anything to be him. 

 

Leif transferred to our school in the seventh grade from Norway. He has a little brother as well, Kovu, who I believe is now an eighth-grader. His thick accent makes his voice sound almost melodic, which is very soothing to listen to. He is part of the more well-known students compared to the rest of us juniors, along with his girlfriend. 

Monica Mantrell is her name. She is very athletic, is extremely attractive, and has decent grades, which fits all of the requirements for popularity. I only hold one of those three traits. Their relationship goes off and on. One day they would be fighting in the cafeteria, and the next, they would be making out … in the cafeteria … in front of everyone. 

Oh, to have that sort of confidence. I have no idea what I’d look like while kissing someone, it's not like I have any experience with it either. With how things are going now, it is almost destined that it will never happen. I’ve learned to accept it. 

 

His dark brown eyes are now focused on me, it takes me too long to realize that I have been staring. Get out, you idiot, get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.. Shifting my eyes to the floor, I make my escape. Speed walking through the hallway, I eventually look up at the clock that sits upon one of the pillars by the entrance. I have more than enough time to make it to homeroom, but being early won’t hurt. 

Loud footsteps bounce off the walls, echoing my exact movements. Too close. Too close. Too close. Too close. The mystery person behind me steps onto the back of my shoe, causing me to stumble.  My front teeth tear into my bottom lip, breaking the already damaged skin. The salty metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and seeps into my gums. 

 

Trying to calm myself down so I don’t have an embarrassing breakdown in the middle of the halls, I recall the exercises that my therapist had taught me. Granted, I’ve never used them because they seem stupid, but this seems like a good time to test them out. 

Five things I can see. Floor tile, the ends of my bangs, shoes. I lift my head up just enough to see in front of me. Book club poster. My eyes scan the hallway. Does the wall count? Wall. Good enough. The next exercise is four things I can feel physically. 

My disgustingly sweaty hands are one. I reach down to my thigh, wiping my hands onto my sweatpants. Pants. Moving my hand higher, I feel the softness of my sweatshirt. Hoodie. And finally, hair, I brush my bangs out of my eyes even though they return to the same spot. 

This is … actually working. Three things I can hear are next. The obnoxiously loud footsteps that are way too close to me, the sound of students conversing. Walking past a classroom, I finish my list of three, the typing of a keyboard. 

Two things I can smell, my sweat and someone’s perfume. It smells like baby powder. And finally, the one thing I can taste is blood. 

My calm demeanor evaporates as I walk into homeroom. 

The kids in there don’t even bother to notice my arrival. Their faces are glued to their phones, chatting about something that has apparently gone viral. 

My usual seat is where it normally is. It is the one thing I can keep in my control.

I make my way to the spare table in the corner of the room, it is me and my fellow loners' territory. 

These said loners were Alfred Graves, Violet Sharp, and Emily Narrow. Nothing really special about them, they just tend to keep to themselves instead of getting involved in things like the other kids did. 

My bangs block my field of vision as I sit in a chair away from the trio. Emily is currently screaming at Alfred, who appeared to be losing in some sort of online game, while Violet simply watched them, laughing at their stupidity. Why can’t I have a friend group like theirs? My throat grows dry and my legs begin to bounce up and down. 

Robin Ibarra, one of the “popular” kids, walks up to our table, I feel my leg begin to shake more. Great. My knee bangs the bottom of the table, he doesn't seem to notice. He sets a pair of rectangular items onto the table and slides them towards me, doing the same to the other three. 

A picture of me stares back when I look at the objects. These were the new lunch and keycards for the year, meaning the school pictures were updated. Somehow the photo makes me look even uglier. I can’t do this. 

Standing up, I shove the cards into my hoodie pocket and make my way back towards the door. I heard the teacher, Mrs. O’connor, question where I was going, but it was too late, my decision was already made. 

A familiar door appears in my path as I make my way through the empty hallway. It is my sanctuary. “Michael Loust- School Counselor” is printed in small white letters next to it. 

He looks up from his computer screen as I walk in, sitting in the swivel chair that I have spent almost my whole high school years in. He greets me with a comforting smile. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Jared.” Mr. Loust says, shutting his laptop and giving me his full attention. “How have you been?” 

-

My hands cling to the squared paper as I walk out of Mr. Loust’s office. I speed walk towards my next class, wanting to be by the classroom door before the bell rings and the hallway becomes a stampede. 

Mr. Loust always ends our sessions a couple of minutes early because he knows how I am in the hallways. I appreciate it. 

I lean my back against the poster-filled drywall, taking a better look at the paper Mr. Loust had given me. 

He had explained that his wife, Mrs. Loust, was starting a new group for students who have been struggling with anxiety. It had originally planned to just be a girls group, but somehow Mr. Loust convinced her that some of the male students should join. Lucky me, being with a group of people who I don’t know. 

The paper shows a schedule of what days we have meetings and what groups we were in. There are 2 groups and I happen to be in group 1. I look down the list of names and feel my body become tense again. 

Anti Anxiety Group Schedule 

Group 1- Monday (8:50-9:35) Thursday (12:42-1:25)  

Group 2- Tuesday (9:40-10:26) Friday (12:42-1:25)

                    Group 1:                                                                 Group 2:                                                                     

                 Kylie Abigail                                                           Zeke Cantrell

             Hazel Bloomingfield                                                 Dakota Davey

                  Chase Ellis                                                           Joseph Dun

                 Zane Mccoy                                                         Layla Marrow 

               Rose Newmen                                                      Scarlet Reyns                                                                                   

                Jared Patsin                                                        Katelyn Walters 

                Jen Robertson                                                       Axel Wheeler                                                                                                                                                                                               

                Isabella Swift                                                           Simi Woods                                                                                

               Veronica Yong      

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

I don’t know a single person in my group. 

 

I scan the second group, also not recognizing a single name. My palms grow sweaty, causing me to wipe them onto my hoodie. Why did this have to happen? The bell rings, causing me to jump slightly. The sound causes me to come back into reality, but it also causes my sheet to relocate onto the tile floor. 

The sounds of doors opening, footsteps, and mindless chatter fill my ears and soak into my brain. I bend down, grabbing my now unclean paper. As I return up, someone's leg hits the back of my head.

“Sorry!” A girl says, glancing at me before returning her attention to the other girls she was walking with. I recognize one of the girls as they turn the corner. 

Ah, Courtney Melendez, my childhood crush, such a sight for sore eyes. Back in second grade, she was this extremely skinny, blonde-haired girl who had the brightest, most beautiful smile. She has perfectly straight teeth and it's probably why I liked her. Opposites attract I guess, except the whole thing was one-sided, she doesn't even know who I am. 

High school has completely changed her, she has been in a huge gothic phase since last year. Her long blonde hair that I fell in love with is now shoulder-length and dyed black with a few indigo streaks to finish the look. 

 

She wears a bunch of makeup now as well, it looks good on her though. Dark purple lipstick, blush, and thick eyeliner. She isn’t as skinny as she was before but that's expected because of puberty and whatever. Her black sweater hugs her curves, she’s still really attractive.

 

The butterflies delicately flutter around my stomach. More people pass by me, taking me out of my thoughts. I walk into the classroom hoping I can get through this class without a complete breakdown. 

 

-Allitini