《The Damned Four》


 Where It Begins

    A towering dark figure stood between Annabelle and her desk as she cowered on her bed before it. Shaped like a human being but neither looking nor feeling anything like one, the figure was pitch black from head to toe as if made out of solid shadow. The only part about it that was a different color was its eyes ¨C a pair of blood-red, unblinking eyes staring menacingly at the quivering teenage girl with the utmost focus.


    Annabelle was filled to the brim with pure terror at what she was witnessing. The way this thing stood absolutely motionless with all eyes on her made it seem like it might spring into any sort of malicious action if she so much as moved an inch, or looked away for even a second.


    Yet at the same time, Annabelle knew what had to be done, no matter how intimidating all of this was to her. With every bit of courage in her she could scrape up, Annabelle clenched her eyes shut and turned away from the shadow-man, or however she could describe it, and began to repeatedly mutter to herself as if casting an incantation, ¡°It¡¯s not real, that thing¡¯s not real, it¡¯s just in my head again, it¡¯s not real, it¡¯s only my head playing tricks again, it¡¯s not real, it¡¯s not real, it''s not real¡­¡±


    For how long Annabelle helplessly lay crouched on the bed repeating those words, she had no idea. All she did know was that when she cautiously opened her eyes again to turn them in the direction she¡¯d been looking at, the shadow-man was no more. There was nothing in front of Annabelle that didn¡¯t belong. There was now only her desk, and a small plastic pill bottle with her name on it.


    With a relieved sigh, Annabelle let out her pent-up anxiety in a burst of hot breath. She then rushed forth to seize the bottle, from which she frantically emptied a few pills out into the sweaty palm of her hand. Another sigh of relief escaped her after she¡¯d downed them with a gulp of water from a glass she¡¯d also kept on her desk.


    Annabelle sat down in front of her desk to calm down from what just happened. Or rather, what her sick, ill mind just made her think had happened. Once she felt her breathing and heart rate return to normal, she then pulled out a thick notebook from her desk drawer.


    Opening it to a page filled with her own handwriting, Annabelle grabbed a pen from the side of her desk and went on writing from where she¡¯d last left off. And as her hand wrote, her mind drifted off gradually into a place of her own.


    A place called her imagination.


    A place where even if for just a moment, her state of mind could be at peace.


    ***


    ¡°Anyone mind if I turn on some tunes? At this rate we might die of boredom before we even arrive.¡±


    Annabelle suddenly awoke to the sound of a familiar voice asking this question. The place she had awakened was the inside of a car being driven along a mountainside road through a forest. The aforementioned question had come from a young man no older than twenty who was driving the car. He also took a brief moment to glance in the rearview mirror in front of the windshield at the three passengers ¨C which included Annabelle.


    Hearing no objections from the three others in the car, the driver fiddled around a bit on the radio. And the next second, the sound of music began filling the vehicle.


    ¡°Nice one, Henrik.¡± A young lady sitting in the passenger seat beside Henrik grinned as she nodded her head slightly to the beat of Alice Cooper¡¯s ¡®The Man Behind The Mask¡¯, before jokingly adding, ¡°Fitting song with our destination, too.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, except I¡¯m most certain the camp we¡¯re going to doesn¡¯t have a reputation tainted by a kill streak courtesy of a hulking mass murderer in a hockey mask.¡± Henrik joked back. ¡°Trust me Luna, I did my research.¡±


    Wanting to join in on the laughs, another young man sitting in the back seat behind Henrik said, ¡°So what if a slasher villain really is there? Based on the horror survival rules we all know from Scream, we should all be safe, considering nobody here¡¯s ¡®done the deed¡¯ yet.¡±


    ¡°Malcolm!¡± Henrik snapped, but not without a laugh from both him and Luna, while Malcolm replied chortling, ¡°Sorry, what I meant to say was that nobody here does drugs or alcohol¡­¡±


    Listening to this silly exchange going on between her friends, Annabelle just silently glanced at the scenery speeding past her gaze outside the window, thinking to herself, ¡°Not one of those dreams again, especially on such a good occasion like this¡­ seriously, can¡¯t my brain just already let go of those old days long after I¡¯ve gotten over them now?¡±


    Annabelle Deckard and her three college friends in the car had recently finished half of their sophomore year to rather satisfactory results. So in light of this achievement ¨C as well as to treat themselves to, in their words, ¡°a well-deserved break from their hard studying¡± ¨C all four of them had agreed with one another to a camping trip on their third week of summer vacation. While all of them had equally prepared the necessary things for the group, so far Henrik was the only one in the quartet who had a driver¡¯s license, so it was agreed they¡¯d all take his car to their destination.


    And even though the car ride to the camp up to this point had been admittedly very boring (there was only so much four friends could do to entertain themselves with their rear ends stuck to the car seats for well over two hours), this couldn¡¯t dampen Annabelle¡¯s high spirits a single bit. After all, how could a little boredom get in the way of her excitement over getting to have a good time with her closest friends? A good time which came partially as a result of a proud performance at college, no less.


    Which was why Annabelle felt as annoyed as she was at her own mind for making her dream about such things while she¡¯d dozed off during the ride. As she continued to get lost in these thoughts, Annabelle abruptly came back to earth when she heard one of her friends call her, ¡°Annabelle? Hey!¡±


    For the first time in a while so long that she lost count, Annabelle turned away from the window to face her friends. ¡°Oh, excuse me, I kinda spaced out for a bit¡­¡±


    Luna laughed, albeit in the friendly kind of way, ¡°A bit? That¡¯s an understatement, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve heard you talking in a long while.¡±


    Now that Annabelle¡¯s attention was back to them, Henrik said, ¡°No big deal, we were just wondering if you¡¯d fallen asleep or something, since you¡¯ve been so silent up to this point.¡±


    Not wanting her subconscious mind''s blast-from-the-past from earlier to soil the mood for the rest of them, Annabelle managed a small grin and replied casually, ¡°I did, but I¡¯ve been awake since not too long ago as well, so yeah.¡±


    ¡°Been lost in your own thoughts again as usual?¡± Asked Malcolm. ¡°Classic Annabelle.¡±


    Trying to keep up the fun atmosphere from when the others had been joking around, Annabelle playfully replied to that, ¡°Hey, at least you can¡¯t say it¡¯s not a good way to get my creativity rolling when I need it to. How do you think I aced all those assignments for my literature or writing classes, aside from just being a good student and paying attention?¡±


    Malcolm chuckled with amusement, then said, ¡°Fair enough. Can¡¯t argue with that logic when we¡¯ve all seen for ourselves how well you write your stories and such.¡± To which Annabelle uttered a flattered laugh. Being a major in literature and writing, several of the classes Annabelle had attended so far required her to write mostly things like stories for assignments. And when she had to come up with material for any story, one of the best ways for Annabelle to do so was simply space out and let her imagination run wild until her mind latched onto the best idea. Then it was time to get moving with either a pen or a keyboard.


    As for how Annabelle¡¯s friends knew she was a good writer, she had a tendency to show her assignments to others such as them or her parents before submitting to her professors. Wanting her work to be as well-written as she could manage, she did this as a way to receive feedback, as well as see what parts worked nicely or if there was any room for improvement. Not that her friends minded either, since they enjoyed reading Annabelle¡¯s stories almost as much as she did writing them.


    ¡°Oh, speaking of which, when we arrive,¡± Luna piped up, ¡°How do you guys feel about exchanging some stories around the campfire at night, for fun? I know there¡¯s gonna be a campfire, otherwise y¡¯all wouldn¡¯t have packed the kind of equipment you brought.¡±


    Malcolm laughed in agreement. ¡°Ain¡¯t no better camping activity than a campfire and campfire tales.¡± He replied, before glancing at Annabelle and adding, ¡°Bet Mary Shelley here would definitely love that, amirite?¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop!¡± Annabelle joined in the laughs, also in agreement. This reference to Mary Shelley first conceiving the idea for ¡®Frankenstein¡¯ during a shot at who could come up with the best ghost story was also a reference to how much of Annabelle¡¯s written works were horror stories. This was also why her friends greatly enjoyed them, as they were all huge fans of the genre, hence the nature of the jokes they¡¯d exchanged earlier over the song on the radio.


    However, while her love for horror was a big part in the reason she mostly wrote in that particular genre, Annabelle had another reason for it as well ¨C a reason not only vastly different from the ones her friends had, but also a reason she wasn¡¯t ready to let anyone else know just yet.


    A reason that also had something to do with her dream.


    To sum it up, before meeting her three friends at college, Annabelle used to have something of a rather troubled past involving a mental illness of sorts. By now she was doing better with the help of things like family support, meds, and therapy that she was grateful for consistently receiving even to this day. Back then, however, she had much worse days that she did NOT enjoy looking back on in any way. During those days, she used to lose herself many, countless times in her own imaginary land, which she expressed to herself through written words on paper so as to better envision it to herself ¨C a habit which would eventually develop into her love for writing stories.


    Her imagination from back then used to help her cope with what she was going through in ways different from what therapy or prescriptions did. She used to consider it as something similar to people cracking open a book, turning on a movie, or playing a video game as a form of escapism; when things got too much for her, she sometimes found herself indulging in her imagination, where things were far less tormenting. Where she could be free from her mind¡¯s pain even for just a short moment. Where even the most fearsome monsters, ghosts, demons, or killers she could make up stories about were nothing compared to the much more fearsome thing she always had to face ¨C reality.


    Those were the days in which even thinking about literally dancing with the devil was no more terrifying than her own devils constantly haunting her from within her mind by making her see and hear things in real life. Things such as the shadow-man in her dream. No matter how much she could build herself a world within the pages of her notebooks where she was the final girl who¡¯d escaped the wrath of a slasher villain out for her blood, at the end of the day there was absolutely no escape from the clutches of the real world out for her sanity, as well as the utterly harrowing hallucinations it brought out to her in its sick state.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    That said, none of that mattered anymore to Annabelle, despite still having dreams of them every now and then against her will. Those darker days were now behind her, and she only looked forward to better ones lying ahead. Better days in which those memories of her past could no longer haunt her, even in her sleep (though she¡¯d prefer it if they didn¡¯t show up at all).


    Better days in which she could enjoy life with those closest to her. Like right now, as Luna turned in her seat to joke, ¡°I look forward to what kind of spine-chilling tales from the dark side you¡¯ll come up with.¡± to which Annabelle replied just as playfully, ¡°Not too spine-chilling, I hope ¨C you guys do need to sleep when it¡¯s all said and done.¡±


    Another laugh out of that later, nothing too eventful happened for a while between them. Annabelle went back to looking out the window at the passing scenery. On an unrelated note as she let her mind drift off again, she couldn¡¯t help but think how nice the scenery felt when there were no cars on the road except theirs. This was because it gave her a clean, unobstructed view of the mountains they were driving through. One time she saw a falling rock sign on the side of the road, but paid it little mind. That was when she noticed the battery on her phone seemed to be in need of charging, so she asked Henrik, ¡°Excuse me Henrik, but do you have an adapter or something that I can use? I wanna charge my phone until we get there.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Replied Henrik, and asked Luna to look in the glove compartment for one. Annabelle temporarily put her phone back in the pocket of her jeans while she watched Luna get an adapter and plug it beneath the radio, before Henrik glanced at it and said, ¡°No, not that one, that one¡¯s busted. Damn, I keep forgetting I need to throw that thing away already!¡±


    Luna unplugged the broken adapter and rummaged again in the glove compartment, until she found a second adapter. Once seeing this one, Henrik said, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the one. Plug it-¡°


    As Henrik was speaking though, for a very short moment Annabelle had the weird feeling of hearing something in the distance. A muffled, rumbling kind of noise. She couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on what exactly the noise sounded like, only that it seemed to be coming somewhere from their left. However, even within the single second Annabelle noticed this and her eyes rolled in the direction she could hear it coming from, something else abruptly occurred that gave her no time to make sense of anything more, or even ask, ¡°What¡¯s that sound?¡±


    ¡°HENRIK, LOOK OUT!¡± Luna suddenly let out a piercing shriek at what she saw before them, making Annabelle, Malcom, and Henrik all jolt in their seats and scream in shock. But their reactions had less to do with Luna¡¯s outburst, which itself had to do with a couple of huge boulders falling from somewhere above the mountainside on their left ¨C right into the middle of the bare road in front of them.


    ¡°Oh sh-¡° Henrik slammed on the brakes and violently jerked the steering wheel around in an attempt to stop the car from crashing into the fallen debris. Instead, much to everyone¡¯s horror, the car ended up swerving off the road entirely, breaking through the rails on their right, and down the slope beyond it.


    Annabelle felt the entire vehicle shake like a building in the middle of an earthquake, coupled with the harrowing sensation of her body descending quickly even as she remained strapped securely by her seatbelt. She couldn¡¯t even see what was happening outside the car windows. All she knew the next moment was an earsplitting crash of bending metal and shattering glass, and after that, darkness.


    ***


    ¡°Uuurrgh¡­¡± Annabelle grunted herself awake eventually. Every inch of her body was in pain, and she couldn¡¯t see anything. Pitch blackness and utter silence surrounded her. Despite all that, she could still feel she was miraculously alive. And the direction of gravity seemed to suggest the car was right side up even after what it had just gone through.


    Annabelle felt around in her jeans and found her phone thankfully intact inside her pocket. She turned its screen on, and realized the reason she couldn¡¯t see was because it was night. Judging by how it seemed to be very late in the afternoon before the crash ¨C almost early evening, in fact ¨C it was baffling to see everything so dark now.


    ¡°How long have I been out for ever since we crashed¡­?¡± Annabelle thought, which immediately brought to mind another matter ¨C were her friends alright?


    She turned the LED light on the back of her phone and shone it around the inside of the devastated car. Every part of the vehicle was severely wrecked, with even the front passenger seat having gotten pushed very tightly against Annabelle¡¯s legs, so she couldn¡¯t move even if she unbuckled her seatbelt. Most of all, Henrik, Luna, and Malcolm could all be seen remaining motionless in their seats. However with the small light in her hand alone, Annabelle couldn¡¯t properly tell through the darkness whether they were just knocked unconscious, or¡­


    ¡°Guys¡­?¡± Annabelle nervously called to her friends, refusing to expect the worst-case scenario. ¡°Malcolm? Henrik? Luna-¡°


    Then came a sudden painful groan from somewhere next to Annabelle, and she gasped. ¡°Malcolm! Malcolm, are you alright?!¡±


    Uttering another groan, Annabelle heard Malcolm mutter as she shined her phone light in his direction, ¡°If by ¡®alright¡¯ you mean alive, then yeah¡­¡±


    Another noise came from the driver¡¯s seat, and Henrik¡¯s voice replied, ¡°What happened? Did we crash off the road?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so¡­¡± Luna¡¯s voice came last. ¡°Can anybody get out of the car right now?¡±


    Annabelle explained her own situation to Luna in response, while both Malcolm and Henrik said their seatbelts appeared to be broken, as they wouldn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°I was afraid of that¡­¡± Luna muttered. ¡°My seatbelt¡¯s just as stuck as you two¡¯s, what luck¡­¡±


    Malcolm groaned again, this time in frustration, and added, ¡°At least we¡¯ve a phone to call for help...¡±


    Knowing he was talking about her own phone, Annabelle glanced down at it. To her horror, she then realized something she hadn¡¯t had the time to notice in her initial pain and shock upon regaining consciousness; the phone¡¯s battery was almost dead.


    Explaining this to her friends, Annabelle asked in a rising panic, ¡°Are any of your phones still working?¡±


    There was a second of silence, then Luna replied weakly, ¡°I don¡¯t even have mine with me right now, it was in my hand while we were driving and I think the crash flung it out of the car¡­¡±


    ¡°Same with me.¡± Said Malcolm, and Henrik added, ¡°Mine¡¯s definitely broken¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, god!¡± Annabelle moaned. Her phone was their only hope of calling for help and it wasn¡¯t expected to last much longer. On top of that, considering how empty the road had been when they last saw it, there was also an extremely slim chance that someone else would witness the scene of the accident while passing by and call help for them. The fact that they¡¯ve remained crashed down here more than long enough for the sun to set, as well as Annabelle¡¯s phone battery to drain as much as it had, was proof of that.


    ¡°Make a call before the battery dies, hurry!¡± Henrik frantically urged Annabelle, who didn¡¯t waste another second in doing so. But as soon as she got done explaining to the operator the exact name and location of the road they¡¯ve been on and what their current predicament was, Annabelle heard the call cut off right out of the blue.


    ¡°Huh?!¡± Annabelle pulled her phone away from her ear to look at the screen, just in time to see it shut off. The low battery had finally given way.


    Feeling extreme anxiety-filled hyperventilation rush up from within her lungs at the sight of her phone screen going as dark as their surroundings ¨C and possibly their situation too ¨C Annabelle screamed at the now useless device in her hand, ¡°No, no, NO, NOOOOO!!!¡±


    Despite presumably being in just as much fear and pain as she was, Annabelle immediately heard Henrik and Luna offer kind words of help to regain her composure, ¡°Annabelle, listen, calm down! Your body¡¯s already in a bad state from crashing, you might make it worse if you panic!¡±, ¡°You still managed to tell them where we were driving through and what kind of accident we got in, that ought to be good enough for them to find us! Don¡¯t get so worried just now!¡±


    This did stop Annabelle¡¯s screaming, but it wasn¡¯t enough to reassure her that help would be here soon. So many fearful uncertainties regarding their situation, from whether she really had properly gotten the word across to the operator, to what kind of injuries they could¡¯ve potentially sustained that they couldn¡¯t feel right now, were plaguing Annabelle¡¯s already scared mind.


    As she was rapidly panting into her hands that she¡¯d cupped over her nose and mouth, Malcolm spoke to Annabelle in the calmest voice she¡¯d ever heard from him in spite of everything, ¡°Annabelle please, listen to us. It¡¯s like Henrik said, they heard all they needed to hear before your phone died. Also, panicking like you are right now isn¡¯t gonna change our current situation. The only thing we can do is wait patiently for help to come.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re scared, we know.¡± Henrik added. ¡°We¡¯re all just as scared as you are. But at the very least that¡¯s one thing we can actually do something about.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Annabelle wheezed inbetween her panting, to which Luna replied, ¡°Don¡¯t let your mind drift to the things making you scared, don¡¯t think about anything else right now. Try to instead keep your mind busy by talking to us. Pick any topic for a conversation except this accident. Let¡¯s just all keep talking and distract ourselves from imagining any worst-case scenarios.¡±


    Momentarily there was a brief silence as the others including Annabelle glanced at Luna while contemplating the suggestion, during which she added, ¡°Or hell, maybe we could even do it to prevent passing out or something. I ain¡¯t no medical expert, but we don¡¯t know what kind of state the crash left our bodies in, so I¡¯ve got a feeling we¡¯d best stay awake at all costs just to be safe. We continue this, and we¡¯ll be able to help get each other¡¯s minds off things until we¡¯re rescued, as well as stay alert so as to not succumb to any potential injuries we might have.¡± She then turned back to Annabelle and asked, ¡°You think you can do that for us like we¡¯re doing for you?¡±


    Annabelle nodded, but it was more of a halfhearted response than anything. She couldn¡¯t think of what she could talk about that could possibly distract them well enough from their predicament, no less for however long it would take for help to arrive. On top of that, her uncertain assumptions on keeping themselves alert as a precaution for possible injuries they couldn¡¯t feel just yet weren¡¯t exactly the most reassuring words either. She knew Luna only meant well with that suggestion, but still...


    As if she knew exactly what Annabelle was thinking, Luna spoke again, ¡°Tell you what Annabelle, how about you preoccupy all of us including yourself with what you do best?¡±


    Annabelle stared at the dark behind of the front passenger seat pressed against her, asking, ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Tell us some of the stories you got.¡± Luna explained. ¡°You remember me suggesting we tell each other stories around the campfire when we arrive at the campsite? How about doing that right now, just to preoccupy our minds like I just said?¡±


    Malcolm and Henrik agreed to the suggestion. ¡°That¡¯s a great idea Luna, we can only go so far by telling each other to not think of anything negative for god knows how long-¡°


    ¡°Malcolm!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I was just getting sick of us continuing to talk about our situation by suggesting we do the opposite of exactly that¡­ I too would really rather think about anything except when the hell we¡¯ll be able to get out of here.¡±


    After hearing all of that, Annabelle thought her friends did make something of a decently convincing point. She did indeed tell the operator enough information for them to send help now that she thought about it. It was just that her mind kept coming up with all sorts of ¡°what if¡± scenarios in light of the accident. Scenarios she didn¡¯t even have any bit of certainty as to whether they¡¯d happen for real right now. That attitude in return continued to fuel her uncertain fear, which likewise kept bringing up the ¡°what if¡±s in a vicious cycle of paranoia.


    Not only that, but Annabelle additionally remembered this wasn¡¯t the first time her mind had let itself into dark places while she was suffering from a difficult situation. Back in the days of her ill mental state, there had been countless days in which Annabelle couldn¡¯t bring herself to do anything other than simply be stuck inside her own mind due to the pain it kept conjuring up. Doing nothing just because her mind made her feel like it had never once helped, Annabelle thought. If anything, since Annabelle didn¡¯t do anything to interrupt the flow of her own internal torment, it only drove her godforsaken mind into darker places than before. This, as a result, enabled it to conjure up more of the damn hallucinations she would¡¯ve given anything to never see again. Either that or more self-inflicted mental anguish which further fueled the rainclouds over her mind in, again, a vicious cycle. And it wasn¡¯t like she could ring up her therapist every time that sort of thing happened as well, as much as she would¡¯ve liked to.


    As she had brief flashbacks to those past days, Annabelle likewise recalled how when she had such moments back then, a lot of the time it used to result in the aforementioned indulgences of her imagination. As momentary as the activity may have been, it had still always greatly helped her mind distract itself from going deeper down the rabbit hole of her own darkness. Or at least, distract her mind long enough for until it was time to take her daily meds.


    Perhaps something similar could be said for the situation Annabelle and her friends were in right now; perhaps it was indeed possible for her to use her imagination as a means to continuously talk their minds out of drifting towards any negative ¡°what if¡±s related to the accident. Either that or, as Luna theorized, slipping out of consciousness ¨C just long enough for all of them to be found and rescued.


    Coming to this realization thanks to the words of her friends helping to finally clear her mind, Annabelle felt her panting slow down until she was able to breathe normally again. She then said, ¡°Alright, all of you¡­ I¡¯ll do it. Thanks for trying to help me like this, what would I do without you¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it Annabelle, you¡¯re doing the same favor to us even as you¡¯re speaking right now.¡± Luna replied. ¡°Now how about those tales you have in store?¡±


    With that, Annabelle nodded, and gradually began the first story that came to mind.

 The 4th House On Romero Street (1/2)

    On his way home from the precinct at the end of his workday, detective Mark Taylor drove his car up the road and into the suburbs. He idly glanced at the houses lined up on either side of him, which were all tinted orange in the sunset going over the horizon.


    In spite of his tired current state of mind, Mark somehow found himself feeling a little pleasant from how peaceful everything around him seemed at the moment. From the sunset¡¯s orange glow giving off warm, cozy vibes, to the whole neighborhood rather still and quiet, this tranquility was exactly what he needed. Especially after the particularly frustrating case him and some others had to deal with back at work.


    He kept driving all the way into Romero Street, eventually pulling over onto the driveway of the fourth house on his right. Just as he got done turning off the car¡¯s ignition, his phone rang.


    Recognizing the number as that of his neighbor and close friend, Mark picked up the call, saying, ¡°Hey Don, what is it?¡±


    The voice on the other side replied, ¡°Hi Mark, I was just wondering whether you were home yet.¡±


    Mark laughed. ¡°Well, you called at the right time, bud. I just finished parking my car on the driveway.¡±


    ¡°Man, good timing.¡± Don laughed along with him, before adding, ¡°So, I assume this means I¡¯ll be over at your place in a bit?¡±


    ¡°Not like there¡¯s any hurry in that.¡± Said Mark, glancing over at the house next door as he exited his car, which was also the house Don lived in. ¡°But yeah, see you real soon.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Don replied shortly, before ending the call.


    Entering his own home, Mark put away his badge and firearm in his typical secure storage in the house, before beginning to prep the kitchen table for a dinner. Don¡¯s wife was out of town on a business trip right now, so the other day Mark had suggested his friend come over for a little get-together over dinner between the two of them, what with Don having particularly nothing else to do after work in his wife¡¯s absence.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it man, I needed something like this as well for a pick-me-up; my department¡¯s been handling a really tricky case these days and it¡¯s making my head spin like hell. So yeah, think of it as a helping each other out of sorts, friend to friend.¡± Mark had told Don when he first suggested the kind gesture yesterday over the phone.


    As for what that case in question was about, Mark got around to telling Don when he came over by the time the table was all set.


    Opening a bottle of beer for each of them, Don first brought up the subject, ¡°Damn, you do look worn out quite a bit now that I got a better look at you here. Was the case you mentioned really that difficult?¡±


    ¡°To make a long story short without sacrificing detail,¡± Mark replied, nodding, ¡°A recent murder case took us on a path with more twists and turns than your average episode of CSI. That body found at the local motel you may have seen on the news a few days ago ¨C that lead us straight to a series of evidence pointing to this one person you also may have seen on the news being the culprit.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Following the story with no problem so far, Don also nodded before adding, ¡°My apologies if I¡¯m not caught up with a few things, I haven¡¯t been watching a lot of the news recently ¨C way too much stress than what I endure already.¡± He then took a swig of beer as if even just talking about it troubled his mind.


    Mark chortled at that, then continued, ¡°With every bit of evidence we gathered so far screaming ¡®this person is the killer¡¯, you¡¯d think that would be the end of it, right? Hell no, because another long investigation later, it turns out the evidence was deliberately planted where we found them for the real killer to get away scot-free by framing an innocent person, can you believe it?¡±


    ¡°That scum!¡± Don exclaimed with a frown. ¡°It¡¯s already more than bad enough that this culprit killed one person, but to try and ruin the life of another just so they could get away with it¡­¡±


    Shaking his head, Mark sighed in agreement. ¡°I know¡­ and they would¡¯ve actually gotten away with it, because everyone around me fully believed the planted evidence until just recently.¡±


    As Don took another swig of beer while listening, Mark explained in a bit more detail, ¡°Despite what all the others in my department thought, I couldn¡¯t for the love of me bring myself to believe that this scared, emotional wreck of a person we had in custody could¡¯ve possibly committed a murder. And this wasn¡¯t just a feeling in my gut either, I even went so far as using a lie detector during investigations, much to the objections of my peers. They still believed more in the presented evidence than anything else.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, you and the wrongly-accused suspect against the whole precinct.¡± Don mumbled, now looking at his friend in a kind of awe. ¡°I now see where all that frustration came from.¡±


    Drinking from his bottle as well, Mark could almost feel the cold beer drowning out that very frustration which had been scorching his mind like an inferno these past few days, saying, ¡°Yeah, I mean ¨C they don¡¯t say ¡®innocent until proven guilty¡¯ for nothing, so with that in mind, I worked my ass off on looking for any evidence that might help prove a different story to the case.¡±


    Don nodded. ¡°And you found it.¡± He said, then heartily clapped him on the back. ¡°You done good, buddy. If I was in your shoes I never would¡¯ve managed what you did. All the evidence and attitudes stacked against me definitely would¡¯ve made me doubt my actions, if not downright give up. Or even worse, let myself give way to all that pressure and then regret it later.¡±


    Flattered at his friend¡¯s compliment, Mark managed a small grin and replied, ¡°Even I had a few moments of doubt during the process. But every time I did, I kept myself going with the reminder that if I¡¯m right and I succeed in this, I¡¯ll be saving an innocent person from a terrible fate. And if I¡¯m wrong, then there¡¯s still no harm done in making fully sure we¡¯ve got the right suspect. With that said, long story short; we caught the real killer and vindicated the previous suspect.¡±


    ¡°Oh man.¡± Said Don, laughing half in awe, half in amusement at these words. ¡°They need more righteous people like you on the force to make this town a better place.¡±


    Mark found himself laughing along, caught up a little in the nice moment they were having, and not feeling as stressed as before, ¡°Oh come now, I was only doing what a member of the local law enforcement rightfully should do.¡± Then changing to a slightly more serious tone, he spoke again, ¡°Here¡¯s what I believe in ¨C it¡¯s important for law enforcement to be able to apprehend dangerous individuals like that killer for the well-being of the community. But lest we forget that very well-being also includes the community being able to trust its law enforcement to keep the people safe, such as, well, not putting away innocent folks behind bars. Because if people can¡¯t trust their community¡¯s law enforcement to protect them, who can they trust?¡±


    Then realizing Don had abruptly paused in the middle of putting a forkful of food into his mouth to stare at him over what he¡¯d said, Mark awkwardly added, ¡°Excuse me if I was rambling, don¡¯t stop eating just because of me.¡±


    Maybe the few sips of beer had already gone to his head and he was indeed just rambling, but somehow Mark felt much, much more relieved from getting off all the weight the murder case had piled on his chest through his words. As much as he never regretted his decision to work in the police force, the job obviously wasn¡¯t without stressful moments like this. And whenever they were to happen, he found talking his feelings out with someone to be a good way to ease his mind. For that he sometimes visited his department¡¯s counselor or called his family (he was still single as of now). But most of the time, Don was there to hear him out as his friend, much to the detective¡¯s gratitude. It was just that Mark didn¡¯t want to be a bother to him by talking about such matters to him all the time. The man wasn¡¯t his personal therapist or anything, after all.


    Don chuckled a little, put the fork in his mouth and chewed his food, before saying, ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mark. It¡¯s just that I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you talk about your job with this much insight before.¡±


    Not knowing what to say about that, Mark simply chuckled back and helped himself to a bit of food too, as Don added, ¡°And you weren¡¯t rambling or anything, I kinda agree with what you said. Like, you did raise a lot of interesting points back there.¡±


    Chuckling again, this time out of gratitude, Mark said, ¡°Thanks, man. What would I do without folks like yourself hearing me out?¡± to which Don kindly replied, ¡°You deserve it mate, and besides, we¡¯re friends. Is there any reason for me to not do so?¡±


    With that grateful and wholesome exchange, the rest of their dinner went over rather fine, until they finished and it was time for Don to head back home. Then Mark tended to a few other things ¨C mostly stuff concerning work and receiving a brief call from his family ¨C before calling it a day and heading off to bed.


    ***


    The next morning, Mark awoke to a series of events he never would¡¯ve even imagined happening, and all of them right out of the blue without so much as a warning. First off, when he picked up his cell phone from his bedside table to turn off its morning alarm, he also found the screen showing what looked like an emergency text saying something about mass breakouts of unexplained violence all across the city.


    With no time at all to go through his typical morning routine in a situation like this, Mark simply splashed a handful of water onto his hair before hastily drying it with a towel, scarfed down one slice of bread, and got dressed to head out and do his job, armed and ready.


    But even that ran into its own series of unexpected events the moment Mark opened his front door and stepped outside. Once on the streets, Mark could see whatever was happening out there was already slowly making its way into the suburbs as well. He spotted one or two people here and there occasionally running past the neighboring houses in the distance, uttering either screams of terror or seemingly angry growls.


    That was a minor but weird thing Mark couldn¡¯t help but notice. Based on what he read in the emergency text he could understand the screams, but growling? And it wasn¡¯t like the kind you¡¯d typically hear coming from an angry person, but rather, some sort of rabid animal.


    With these thoughts going through his mind, Mark was just about to unlock his car door when in the reflection of the car¡¯s window, he saw something slowly approaching him over his shoulder.


    Turning around, Mark saw the horrific sight of a man streaked from head to toe in blood limping across the yard towards him. The man was also sporting a severe wound on the side of his neck to boot, and the cause of his limp turned out to be his left foot having been twisted in a weird angle.


    Obviously shocked, but seeing the man was in need of immediate help, Mark told him, ¡°Sir, keep pressure on that wound in your neck, I¡¯ll drive you to the nearest hospital once I-¡°


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mark had meant to say that he¡¯d drive him to the nearest hospital once he got his car started. But he never got to do so, or even finish his sentence, when the bloody man suddenly leaped at him as soon as he was close enough, uttering the same rabid growl Mark had heard earlier from some of the passersby in the distance.


    Granted, this man had a bad ankle so he wasn¡¯t able to do much other than grab onto Mark and continue to growl ferociously, but this still startled Mark enough to make him drop his car keys and resort to using both hands to try and fend off the madman.


    ¡°What are you doing- stop!¡± Mark screamed, grabbing the man beneath the armpits to push him away from him. By now the man was baring teeth just as bloodstained as the rest of him to violently snap them at the detective, as if trying to take a bite out of him.


    While his mind had gone into utter disarray in the chaos he¡¯d witnessed over a mere few minutes, Mark¡¯s survival instincts thankfully weren¡¯t faltered. He eventually managed to throw the man off him by slamming him against the car and kicking his bad ankle. This caused the man to fall on the ground beside the car, giving Mark the chance to get some distance between himself and the man.


    However, before Mark¡¯s eyes, the man almost immediately began to stand back up, as if he was completely immune to the pain of falling down or having his broken ankle hit. Momentarily flailing his legs about on the ground ¨C and to Mark¡¯s great annoyance, unknowingly kicking his car keys underneath the vehicle in the process ¨C the man planted his feet, including the broken one, onto the ground and picked himself up. Doing so, his limbs moved and bended in the most grotesque ways Mark had ever seen, almost like a contortionist performing a flexible stunt. And once he was back up, the man continued to snap his teeth at Mark as he slowly limped towards him again.


    That was the last straw. Mark drew his gun from his belt and aimed it at the man, and though at this point he doubted whether the man could even understand him in such a state, he shouted firmly, ¡°Sir, I¡¯ll have to ask you to stay where you are and put your hands in the air!¡±


    The man only snapped more and limped closer to Mark, whose grip on his gun was becoming more and more sweaty by the second with his anxiety reaching its boiling point, ¡°If you do not comply, I¡¯ll have no choice but to open fire!¡±


    Again, the man showed no sign of compliance, looking like he was about to lunge again. Yet despite what he just said, Mark¡¯s finger could only tremble before the gun¡¯s trigger instead of pulling it. Was it the pressure of all this chaos nobody could¡¯ve been prepared for? Or the uncertainty of if he was really willing to shoot a man without having the faintest idea of what was driving him to act so crazy (even if it was in self-defense)? Either way, Mark found himself unable to act at that moment.


    Luckily for him, someone else did. Before Mark knew it, a baseball bat came swinging seemingly out of nowhere to hit the bloody man in the head with a dull THWACK, sending him down onto the ground a second time, except this time he didn¡¯t rise again.


    This finally snapped Mark back to his proper senses as he looked in the direction the bat had come from and exclaimed, ¡°Don!¡±


    Poking the bloody man with the bat to make sure he was really down, Don turned to Mark and asked with both relief and frustration in his voice, ¡°What the hell were you brandishing that gun for if you weren¡¯t gonna actually use it to protect yourself?!¡±


    Unable to explain the reason himself, Mark ignored the question and instead simply thanked Don for saving him, to which he replied, ¡°Naw, don¡¯t mention it¡­ more than that, are you alright?¡±


    Mark nodded. He then glanced at the faraway sight of more people running for their lives from other growling ones like the one Don took down, before asking, ¡°Do you have any idea what all this is about?¡±


    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡± Said Don, now looking equally confused as Mark. ¡°I was heading outside to check my mail when I saw these people running here and there like crazy, and the next thing I knew this lady with blood all over her mouth and nothing but murder in her eyes came running towards me at top speed¡­¡±


    Don gestured with his head over at his front lawn where sure enough, Mark could see the lady he described lying spread eagled on the grass. No doubt she¡¯d been knocked down by Don in an act of self-defense, as proven by Don glancing at the bat in his hands and adding, ¡°Good thing someone had dropped this thing near my house, or who knows what she could¡¯ve done to me¡­¡±


    ¡°Good thing for me too.¡± Said Mark. He looked around quickly to see if any more growling people were coming at them, before asking, ¡°My keys fell underneath the car, you think I can use that bat to retrieve them? I have a feeling we¡¯d wanna get away from here as far as possible and find a safe place from whatever the hell¡¯s going on.¡±


    Don nodded and handed the bat over to Mark. ¡°But better hurry.¡± He said, also observing their surroundings, ¡°We don¡¯t know when we might get jumped-¡°


    But he¡¯d spoken too soon. No less than a split second after Mark had begun to kneel down beside his car with the bat in hand, there came a couple of screams nearby, and what was more, they were getting closer.


    Bolting upright, Mark gave the bat back to Don and pulled out his gun again, just in time to see a woman and a man running for dear life from the other side of the street to where the two men were at. Following them were two more growling, bloodstained people hot on their heels.


    Being more prepared this time, Mark knew what had to be done, and almost as if by instinct, so did Don. Both of them shouted at the two folks running in their direction, ¡°Get down!¡± with their weapons at the ready.


    Noticing Mark and Don, the man and woman leapt out of the way. The growling people chasing them likewise tried to lunge at their targets, but then were thwarted by Don swinging his bat at the chest of one of them, knocking them to the ground. The same fate met the other one as Mark shot them in the knee, the sound of the gunshot cracking like a whip through the early morning air.


    This left Mark¡¯s ears ringing a little, but that was the least of his worries right now. He bent down and helped the man back up to his feet, asking, ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Thanks to both of you, yeah.¡± The man replied in a raspy voice, sounding both extremely relieved and grateful. It was then that Mark noticed the man had a slight limp on one of his legs as if it was injured. It¡¯s a wonder how he was able to run that hard on a leg like that, Mark thought.


    The lady was also thanking Don as he helped her up too, exclaiming inbetween heavy panting from all the running, ¡°I thought I¡¯d be a goner for sure by those crazies if it weren¡¯t for you saving me, thank you so much!¡±


    ¡°Save those words for later.¡± Mark told the lady, ¡°We all can¡¯t stay here any longer.¡± He glanced back at the two growling people he and Don had knocked down. The one hit by Don¡¯s bat was convulsing like crazy on the ground but still far from staying where they lay. Meanwhile the one Mark shot in the knee was desperately crawling across the pavement towards the four people, gurgling more animalistic growls through a mouthful of blood.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get your keys for you.¡± Don said to Mark, and was just about to crouch down next to Mark¡¯s car when they were interrupted by yet another disturbance ¨C a disturbance none of them could possibly ignore and take the time to retrieve Mark¡¯s keys from beneath his car, because there was no time for anything this time other than to run.


    From far up and down the street to behind some of the neighboring houses, dozens and dozens of more people growling from bloody mouths emerged and ran towards the four people they could see who were still acting normally; Mark, Don, and the two folks they¡¯ve rescued.


    Even in the split second he noticed them before leaping into action the next moment, Mark realized these people had been attracted by the sound of his gunshot. The noise had undoubtedly carried for an extremely long distance all across the neighborhood. And once it was heard, there¡¯d been no turning these growling folks back as they made their way towards the source of it.


    There was nothing else for it. The only thing any of them had enough time to do before the horde of crazies came at them was to barricade themselves within the closest place of shelter accessible right now, which was Mark¡¯s house.


    ¡°Go! Inside, now!¡± Rushing to his front door and unlocking it in what felt like half the speed of sound, Mark opened it wide, made sure the three others made it inside safely, then slammed the door shut only a split second before the very front of the growling horde reached the doorstep.


    ¡°Jesus bloody Christ¡­¡± Mark locked the front door behind him and slid down to the floor. The fear-induced adrenaline from earlier left every inch of his body all at once upon him and the others¡¯ successful entry into the house, where they were no longer in danger from those growling people and whatever was causing them to act the way they did.


    Don, the limping man, and the lady were all either kneeled or collapsed on the floor as well, panting like mad and staring at their surroundings like they couldn¡¯t believe they¡¯d actually made it. In fact, all of them had to remain in such a state for a good couple of minutes before Don looked up and broke the silence by asking, ¡°Are all the windows here locked, Mark?¡±


    For a moment the man and lady looked panicked, thinking they might not be safe even in here if so much as one window was left susceptible to intrusion. But the moment passed as soon as it came when Mark replied, ¡°I always keep my windows locked when they¡¯re closed, don¡¯t worry.¡± Then glanced around at the living room windows, all of which were fully covered by curtains, as were the rest of the windows throughout the house. At that moment Mark felt extremely grateful for himself that he always closed the curtains on his windows at night (he¡¯d of course also had no time to open them this morning from being in a hurry).


    Don and the limping man breathed a deep sigh of relief, then the former mumbled, ¡°Yeah well, guess a police officer of all people would know better than to leave his house unsecure¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a cop?¡± The limping man asked in a still raspy voice, to which Mark responded with a nod and gave the man a glimpse of his badge. However the lady, who looked like she was not yet reassured enough of the house¡¯s security, paid no attention to this exchange and said, ¡°Who¡¯s to say those crazies won¡¯t just break the windows to get in?¡±


    Once again there was a moment of terror in the air, one that lasted longer than the first, as well as struck all four of them this time. The lady had a point, those people out there came across as unhinged enough to not give a damn about whether they cut themselves on broken glass shards ¨C if that was the case, they could most certainly get into the house by breaking the windows. Not to mention there was so many of them, so they had more than enough strength to do it as well.


    Thankfully this brief moment also passed, as when everyone in the house fell silent from the fear of what could happen if this worst-case scenario came true, what they heard in their ears right then and there restored their composure. Or rather, what they DIDN¡¯T hear.


    Sure, they could still faintly hear the growls of the crazies outside the house, but right now the growls felt more subdued in a way, and not just because they were hearing them through a wall. It was rather unlike the growling sounds reminiscent of an actively attacking rabid animal that they¡¯d heard before. Moreso, they couldn¡¯t hear anything along the lines of fists furiously smashing against the glass. If anything, the windows were being left alone by the crazies completely.


    Standing up to look at the windows, Mark also noticed on the curtains the faint silhouettes of the people outside. Rather than looking like they were attacking violently, the way they idly swayed this way and that seemed to suggest the opposite.


    This sparked a revelation in Mark¡¯s mind as he mumbled, ¡°Are they not attacking because they can¡¯t see us¡­?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± The man and lady glanced at Mark with confused looks on their faces, while Don leapt up from the floor and silently exclaimed, ¡°That must be it! It doesn¡¯t make sense for those people to run like hell at us outside but then go somewhat calm once we got indoors, unless that¡¯s the case!¡±


    Mark turned to look at Don with an almost impressed glance, saying, ¡°You read my mind¡­¡± but the lady, again, was not reassured. She nervously rose to her feet and asked Mark and Don, ¡°That¡¯s still only an assumption for now, though¡­ what if you¡¯re wrong and those people come barging in when we least expect it?¡±


    Neither Mark nor Don had an answer to that. So the only thing they could think of doing in response, as well as to answer a lot of their own questions to their situation, they went over to the TV in the living room and sat down in front of it. They beckoned the other two to come join them, saying ¡°Maybe the news can give us some useful information¡­ at least, we hope.¡±


    After the man had limped and the lady had walked over to the couch Mark and Don were sitting at, they took a second to introduce one another as a news broadcast showed up on the TV screen.


    The news informed them that while the cause of all this remained unknown, recent reports and witnesses have managed to deduce how these acts of violence seemed to work; the most noticeable fact was that there was one common thing every one of the crazed growling people did to others, which was bite down on any bit of flesh they could sink their teeth into. As for the ones bitten, they too went crazy not too long after and acted the exact same way as those who attacked them. The description alone made it sound like some sort of horrible disease was spreading out there.


    ¡°What is this, some sort of epidemic?!¡± The lady, Vera, exclaimed in terror at what she¡¯d heard. The limping man, Gerald, simply sat still with wide open eyes. Don replied to Vera, ¡°There doesn¡¯t seem to be a better way to put it¡­¡± and Mark said, ¡°Shh, wait ¨C they¡¯re saying something else¡­¡± as he concentrated more on the TV screen.


    The news then spoke of what appeared to be a recognizable pattern with how this phenomenon, which was now being called ¡°the infection¡± due to the way it spread, presumably worked. Based on witness reports, anyone who got bitten showed the infection symptom of coughing up blood, then fully turned into a ¡°crazy¡± shortly after. Not only that, the speed of the infection to completely take effect varied depending on how far away from the head the bitten body part was.


    ¡°At least we know something now, that¡¯s better than nothing¡­¡± Don piped up, then found his voice trailing off as he turned to the others to ask what they made of this information. Because right as Don looked at the three sitting next to him, Gerald had let out a few coughs into his hand, and when he removed it from his mouth, everyone saw the palm was spattered with blood.

 The 4th House On Romero Street (2/2)

    An eerie silence, the most deafeningly quiet one so far, filled the room. Mark felt as if his heart jumped into his throat as he, Don, and Vera stared in terror at the red drops peppered across Gerald¡¯s hand. They all had the same thing in mind without needing to say it out loud.


    After the information they just heard on the news, Gerald must¡¯ve realized what the other three made of this too, because he nervously turned his head in their direction and stammered, ¡°This¡­ this is nothing, I just-¡° but Mark, Don, and Vera had already stood up and were backing away from him even as he spoke.


    Desperately Gerald tried to explain himself, ¡°I chipped a tooth from falling down as I was running earlier, that¡¯s why-¡° however Vera, now in the most fear Mark had seen from her so far, cut him off and shouted, ¡°Don¡¯t give us that, you¡¯re infected! You¡¯re showing the symptoms!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, will you let me finish?!¡± Gerald pleaded. ¡°I¡¯m being completely honest, I really lost a tooth before I ran into you, and that¡¯s where the blood in my mouth came from!¡±


    But Gerald¡¯s words didn¡¯t sound the most convincing at that moment, especially when right after he finished his sentence, he let out a couple more coughs accompanied with more drops of blood.


    ¡°And the coughing?¡± Vera asked in an aggressive panic, ¡°I suppose that too came from your chipped tooth, huh?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had a sore throat for the past few days!¡± Gerald retorted. He limped a few steps forward, making the other three back away an equal amount of steps, and added, ¡°Look, you can come closer and see for yourself inside my mouth-¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t come any closer!¡± Vera screamed, before grabbing a book from the nearest shelf and flinging it at Gerald as if it would make him back away from them.


    This did indeed do nothing to stop Gerald from approaching the three, instead making him let out a raspy shout of frustration, ¡°Will you stop-¡° but this time he couldn¡¯t even finish his sentence before his bloody coughing came back once more.


    ¡°He can¡¯t be here with us!¡± Vera shouted, looking at Mark and Don with eyes open so wide with fear, they looked like they were in danger of falling out of her face. ¡°You saw the news! We got to get him out of here quick! Out of the goddamn house!¡±


    Don could only stare at Gerald, to Vera, to Mark, and back to Gerald again as if he had no idea what to do with how quickly things had escalated in a matter of seconds. And honestly, neither did Mark, but he still tried his best to be reasonable as he told Vera, ¡°Listen to what you¡¯re saying, Vera! None of us are getting out of here anytime soon with all those people still surrounding the house! They¡¯ll be all over us the moment we so much as open a door, have you forgotten?¡±


    Mark had been in a few standoffs before where he and his fellow cops had to talk raving lunatics into submission before they could do anything crazy. Based on the job instincts he gained from such experiences, Mark knew that if Vera¡¯s panic wasn¡¯t diffused, the situation would definitely escalate further into something utterly out of control. And that was the last thing any of them needed while trapped indoors by infectious crazies.


    For a moment, Mark¡¯s words seemed to snap Vera out of it. She paused on the spot, panting a little, and looked around at her surroundings. At first Mark thought of this as Vera remembering what kind of peril they were already in and realizing she wasn¡¯t going anywhere by panicking. But then to his shock, he saw her walking over to the furnace to grab one of the fire pokers, before turning towards a horrified Gerald and speaking with more terror in her voice than before, ¡°Then I guess we¡¯ll have to get rid of him the hard way¡­¡±


    As if on cue, both Mark and Don leapt at Vera to wrestle the fire poker out of her hands, all while both the layout of the living room and where he currently stood gave Gerald nowhere to run from the scuffle but into a corner, where he was forced to cower and watch the scene unfold.


    Eventually with Don¡¯s help, Mark flung the fire poker back where it belonged, pulled a disarmed and madly shaking Vera behind him and told her, ¡°Calm down, please! We know what this looks like, but we can¡¯t lose our heads because of that!¡±


    By now it was more than obvious that Vera was not thinking properly from her immense panic, between what she¡¯d just tried to do and forgetting that they weren¡¯t in a position to be able to simply throw a person out of the house due to suspicions of infection. And as much as Mark knew very well how dangerous the idea of someone amongst them being infected was, reckless actions driven by judgement clouded with fear could be just as deadly to them right now. What if Vera really had lunged at Gerald with the fire poker? Swinging that thing around in an enclosed space like a house was bound to break something by accident¡­ something like one of the only things keeping them safe from the danger outside, which were the mere curtain-covered glass windows.


    Vera stared wide-eyed at Mark with disbelief. ¡°What this looks like?! It¡¯s exactly what it looks like! Can¡¯t you see he¡¯s obviously lying about his infection because he knows we have no choice but to kill him?! We need to get rid of him immediately before he does all of us in once he turns-¡°


    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± Mark bellowed, and Vera was so taken aback that she stopped mid-sentence, averting her scared eyes from him. Even Don completely froze where he stood as he stared at his friend with a look on his face that Mark couldn¡¯t make out.


    In the calmest tone he could muster up, Mark told Don and Vera, ¡°Look, we¡¯re already in enough danger as it is, getting scared silly as much as you are right now isn¡¯t gonna make things better! Do you think panicking will make those crazies out there magically disappear or something?! Now I¡¯m not gonna act like I¡¯m any less scared than all of you currently are, but at the very least can you allow me to deal with this the best I can before we end up doing something we can¡¯t be responsible for?¡±


    Don finally found his voice and quietly asked, ¡°What do you mean by that¡­?¡± to which Mark replied like he was at the precinct doing his job, ¡°I¡¯m taking over this interrogation.¡±


    With that, he turned to face Gerald again. By now he was shivering and panting intensely where he stood, no doubt out of fear of what they might do to him if he so much as tried anything to save his neck, after hearing what Vera had said.


    Admittedly, Mark had been just as wary of Gerald as Vera and Don at the sight of the man coughing blood. But during the few seconds in which Vera had begun accusing Gerald of being infected and Gerald showed immense desperation to prove himself otherwise, a part of Mark¡¯s mind had also strangely begun to see a familiar sight in this man. A sight he¡¯d seen beg and plead in the form of a tearful, emotional wreck who repeatedly said over and over that they didn¡¯t commit the murder which his department had been trying to solve these past few days. The murder that Mark himself believed was indeed not committed by the prime suspect, despite what the rest of his department thought based on the presented evidence.


    Part of the words he¡¯d told Don the other night when describing this very murder case over dinner came back into Mark¡¯s mind as he carefully approached Gerald; ¡°Innocent until proven guilty¡±. And like with the murder case, Mark intended to stick to those words with this problem as well. For if he managed to prove here that Gerald was in fact not infected, similar to the wrongly accused suspect, he¡¯d be saving an innocent person from a terrible fate ¨C namely death ¨C especially after seeing Vera really meant it when she said they had to get rid of Gerald before it was too late. Also, as far as Mark could see based on the situation so far, it was essential that as many of them as possible stuck together to get through this outbreak alive somehow. Last but not least, if Gerald was indeed infected, then Mark couldn¡¯t see any bad coming from making sure of it before taking action. If anything, it was because their situation was so dire and perilous that they had to be sure of anything before taking action. Or else, like he¡¯d previously said (and like they¡¯ve seen through Vera¡¯s outburst), they could possibly end up doing something they couldn¡¯t be responsible for.


    Slowly and carefully, Mark walked towards Gerald with his hands held up in front of him just in case, saying reassuringly, ¡°Don¡¯t panic, I¡¯m only trying to help. Trust me.¡±


    Another bloody cough from Gerald and a flinch from Vera, Mark continued with more caution, ¡°Now I need you to be completely honest with us if you want my help. This is for all four of us here, not just you. Do you understand?¡±


    Gerald nodded with a trembling head, prompting Mark to ask in the same tone as he did with suspects under interrogation, ¡°Are you really not bitten by any of those infected ones out there?¡±


    Shaking his head with more desperation than before, Gerald insisted, ¡°I really do have a sore throat and a chipped tooth, I can show you if you don¡¯t believe me!¡±


    He then tried to walk closer to Mark, but no sooner had he limped only two steps forward did Vera shriek all of a sudden, ¡°Don¡¯t let him get closer, he might turn any second and try to bite you!¡±


    ¡°Vera, please!¡± Mark hissed without his gaze leaving Gerald, before adding, ¡°Don, can you please help her calm her nerves while I do my thing?¡±


    Mark didn¡¯t hear a response to that, what with Don having fallen still and silent again as Vera stuck close to him for support, but no matter. He instead told Gerald to stay put while he walked over to him to examine the inside of his mouth.


    Once he was close enough, Mark said, ¡°Open wide.¡± And Gerald did so, even stretching his cheeks apart to give Mark a better view. And in that moment, Mark felt a weird emotion of not being sure whether to be surprised or relieved at what he saw inside Gerald¡¯s mouth. One thing was for sure, however ¨C Gerald was indeed telling the truth about his broken tooth. A closer inspection did show his mouth was slightly pooled with blood seeping out of a tooth-sized dark red hole in his gums where his lower-left canine tooth should have been. Not only that, now that Mark thought about it, if Gerald was also telling the truth about his sore throat, then it would explain his raspy voice too.


    Mark turned to Don and Vera to say, ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth.¡± But Vera didn¡¯t look reassured in the slightest, and Don remained silently frozen where he stood with a look on his face that Mark still couldn¡¯t read. Visibly exasperated upon noticing this, Gerald asked, ¡°What more do you need from me to be convinced?!¡±


    ¡°What about your limp?¡± Vera asked, considerably quieter but with no change in her fearful tone.


    ¡°What?¡± Both Mark and Gerald asked in initial confusion, before Vera repeated, ¡°You were limping on one leg, why is that?¡±


    Gerald sighed deeply, grabbing at his furrowed brow, ¡°It¡¯s only a mild injury, what¡¯s that got to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°What kind of injury?!¡± Vera demanded.


    Gerald blinked a couple of times like someone who couldn¡¯t find the right words to say, then said, ¡°Again, why are you asking? It¡¯s not like it¡¯s anything serious-¡°


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    But Vera stood firm, almost stubbornly cutting Gerald off to say, ¡°If it¡¯s nothing serious, then I guess you¡¯ve got nothing to hide, isn¡¯t that right? Show us.¡±


    Now wearing the face of someone caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Gerald slowly lifted his pants up a few inches on the side of his limping leg. Now Mark, Don, and Vera could all see why he¡¯d been limping this whole time ¨C his ankle had a set of slightly bloodstained bandages wrapped around it. Not only that, but the bloodstain oddly had an almost U-shape to it as well, as if¡­


    ¡°That¡¯s a bite mark, isn¡¯t it¡­?¡± Mark heard Vera¡¯s trembling voice ask from behind him as he stared at the bandages. ¡°Don¡¯t try to lie your way out of this, we know it¡¯s a bite mark!¡±


    Despite Vera¡¯s disbelief, Gerald argued back, ¡°My neighbor¡¯s dog bit me last night, it wasn¡¯t any of those crazies out there! Believe me, that dog has always been a real nasty piece of work-¡°


    But this was the last straw for Vera, and Gerald coughing up more specks of blood again didn¡¯t tip the scales in his favor either. Looking like she wasn¡¯t going to take any further words from Gerald for an answer, Vera made her way towards the fire poker again.


    ¡°No wait, stop!¡± Just as he¡¯d done before, Mark grabbed Vera by the wrists and tried to pull her away from the sharp-ended iron rod on the floor. Except this time he wasn¡¯t very successful, as Vera was giving it her all to break free from his grasp in a mad determination. The sight of Gerald¡¯s bandages had now convinced her more than ever that the man was a danger to all of them. On top of that, Don seemed to be frozen on the spot without a word for the umpteenth time after seeing the bite mark on Gerald¡¯s ankle. Mark understood he must be just as confused or freaked out as anyone else in the room, but now was an extremely bad time to become a sitting duck to one¡¯s own terrified mind ¨C not when there was a dire need to stop a mentally unstable lady brandishing a fire poker from doing something that could possibly endanger them all.


    Wrestling with the fire poker now held in both his and Vera¡¯s hands, Mark shouted at his friend, ¡°Don! Don, don¡¯t just stand around and give me a hand!¡±


    Being way too preoccupied with apprehending Vera, Mark couldn¡¯t look around to see whether or not Don would come to his aid. All he could do was keep every bit of both his strength and focus on pushing Vera up against the wall. As soon as he did that though, he suddenly heard a pair of rapidly moving footsteps somewhere behind him. The next thing Mark knew, the second he thought to himself how the footsteps sounded like those of someone running, he felt a quick, hard yank on his belt, before a voice was heard shouting, ¡°Don¡¯t freaking move!¡±


    Immediately there was silence. The only sounds heard in the air at that moment were the heavy breathing noises coming from everyone¡¯s mouths¡­ and a metallic clicking that Mark was all too familiar with, much to the detective¡¯s dread.


    Realizing what the yank on his belt probably meant, Mark turned his head around to look over his shoulder while the rest of his body continued to keep Vera pinned to the wall. Even Vera had stopped struggling to stare in the direction he was looking towards.


    Don had snatched Mark¡¯s gun from his belt and was pointing it directly at Gerald, who was away from the corner he¡¯d been cowering in. Instead, he now stood in the middle of the living room¡¯s threshold, hands in the air and eyes full of both tears and horror - eyes looking at the dark metal barrel threatening to open fire if even a single muscle in his body twitched.


    Perhaps it was either the shock of how abruptly things had taken such an intense turn, or the prospect of not having to fight for a weapon now that Gerald was held at gunpoint, but Vera loosened her grip on the fire poker and showed no further signs of movement. This gave Mark the opportunity to let go of Vera and cautiously approach Don, doing his best to speak in a calm, unalarming tone, ¡°Don, please don¡¯t do this¡­¡±


    ¡°He was about to run away out of sight.¡± Don replied, his gaze on Gerald unmoving. ¡°I couldn¡¯t let that happen. Who knows when the infection will fully get to him while none of us are keeping an eye on him?¡±


    Mark opened his mouth in an attempt to reason with Don into making him put down the gun, but Don spoke first before Mark could do so, ¡°I know what you¡¯re trying to say mate, but I¡¯m sorry to say that for just this once, I can¡¯t bring myself to hear you out. He¡¯s too untrustworthy for that. For all we know, Vera could be right ¨C what if that bite mark really did come from one of the infected and he¡¯s lying because he knows we have no choice but to kill him?¡±


    ¡°Don, listen¡­¡± Mark protested, albeit weakly, ¡°You¡¯re letting the fear get to your head like with Vera, don¡¯t allow it to make you do something you¡¯ll regret¡­¡± but even as he said this, he had a dreadful feeling it wouldn¡¯t do anything to ease the standoff. Not just because Don had been coerced into thinking the same thing as Vera, but also because at this point Mark himself had hit a wall trying to prove anything from Gerald; a wall built out of a whole bunch of conflicting doubts that threw his mind into utter disarray, starting with the bloodstained bandages.


    How could he know for sure whether the bite mark on Gerald¡¯s ankle really had come from his neighbor¡¯s pet dog of questionable existence, or from one of the infected? Unlike with the blood coming from Gerald¡¯s mouth, there was no solid proof as to where the bite mark had come from other than Gerald¡¯s own words, which obviously weren¡¯t enough to convince the others. Neither was there any way to find out for himself, unlike when he¡¯d investigated the evidence framing the wrongly accused murder suspect.


    This led to other doubts Mark wouldn¡¯t have had before if Gerald was never forced to reveal his bite mark. What if Gerald¡¯s chipped tooth didn¡¯t mean anything other than a coincidence? Assuming Gerald was really bitten, then were his bloody coughs from earlier actual infection symptoms, with the blood from his chipped tooth completely unrelated to it? And speaking of unrelated, could the same possibly be said for Gerald¡¯s raspy voice as well? Could his words about his sore throat also be a mere lie to cover up the real reason for the coughing, and the raspiness was just a natural part of his voice?


    Sure, Mark could make the argument that an infected individual well aware of what the infection would do to him probably wouldn¡¯t try so hard to avoid death when it was inevitable for him either way. But the keyword there was ¡®probably¡¯. No one else could speak for what was on Gerald¡¯s mind but Gerald himself. On top of that, now that Mark thought about it, even if he was the one in Gerald¡¯s position, he¡¯d also find it near impossible to simply come clean about his infection due to the fear of what the others would do to him for it, as seen through Vera and Don¡¯s actions here.


    ¡°People always look at zombie movies and complain about some characters putting the others in danger by hiding the fact that they¡¯re infected,¡± Mark thought to himself, ¡°but now I know that¡¯s only because they¡¯ve never had to experience anything like that in real life¡­ nobody knows the half of what that dread is like unless they¡¯ve felt it for themselves¡­¡±


    Even Gerald appeared to be out of words to defend himself. With his hands still in the air, he just stared through scared, tearful eyes looking like they were screaming at Mark to please save him ¨C very not unlike the accused murder suspect.


    At that moment, however, Mark felt just as helpless as Gerald, even without anyone pointing a gun at him. There didn¡¯t seem to be anything he could do anymore. After everything he had tried to help the others in the face of this disaster, ultimately that mindset of his might¡¯ve become the very thing to put them all in possible danger. What was he thinking when he said he¡¯d be taking over this interrogation as if this was a normal day at his job? He should¡¯ve known this was not at all like investigating a crime, but his goddamn job instincts just had to kick in.


    These thoughts even led to Mark doubting the very reason he¡¯d prevented Vera from lunging at Gerald with the fire poker in the first place. Was it really because his reason made him think she¡¯d break a window in the process, or was it his job instincts again, making him grasp at straws over a lost cause?


    ¡°The only thing I regret doing is letting ourselves allow him to come inside with us.¡± Don replied to Mark¡¯s previous words. Words which seemed so far away to him after the devastatingly doubt-filled train of thought in his mind, even though in reality it had only been a few seconds.


    The moment Don said this, Mark then heard the words he uttered in response coming out of his mouth on what felt like autopilot. Because with his mind in absolute shambles, he couldn¡¯t tell which part of it ¨C the part still grasping at straws or the part of reason-driven concern ¨C drove him to say, ¡°You might accidentally shoot and break a window, give me the gun.¡±


    Don only gripped the gun tighter in his hands and slowly stepped closer to Gerald as he said, ¡°I¡¯m not gonna miss, I got this¡­¡±


    That autopilot driven by the unknown part of Mark¡¯s shambled mind kicked in once more, this time making him grab Don¡¯s arm holding the gun and say, ¡°I said give me the gun.¡±


    Little did anyone know during the split second it took for Mark to grab Don¡¯s arm, though, how this one action would lead to a disastrous series of others in a chain reaction of madness. The extremely sudden nature of Mark grabbing him made Don turn his head ever so slightly to look at his friend. Gerald saw this as a chance to charge towards Don at top speed even with his limping ankle. Before any of the other three had time to react to this, Gerald ducked low and swung a mighty punch at Don¡¯s hand, resulting in the gun getting knocked out of his grasp and clattering onto the floor¡­ just over three feet away from where Vera stood.


    What happened next ensued as quickly and determinedly as if it was scripted. Both Vera and Gerald dived for the gun before either Mark or Don could take even a split second to comprehend what was going on. The next thing they knew, Vera and Gerald were entangled together and thrashing this way and that all over the living room floor in an unhinged struggle to get ahold of the weapon.


    Mark and Don wanted more than anything to intervene and stop the chaos unfolding before them, but neither of their legs could find a shred of strength to move forward and do it. Between what kind of weapon the two people on the floor were fighting over and the intensity of the fight itself, both of them were too afraid of the gun accidentally going off as the two pairs of hands desperately tried grasping for it. There was no way of knowing whether or when an unsuspecting finger would find itself wrapping around the gun¡¯s trigger and pull it before anyone could realize it was happening amidst the various struggling body parts.


    And to the utmost horror of everyone in the room, an ear-splitting bang coming from somewhere between Vera and Gerald signaled the worst-case scenario¡¯s realization.


    There was no movement inside the room. No sound except for the muffled growls of the infected horde surrounding the house, a bit louder than before due to the gunshot alerting them of a noise they couldn¡¯t visually locate.


    Then Mark became the first to break the stillness, as his legs collapsed beneath him and his whole body crashed to the floor in a sickening thump. Don fell to his knees and grabbed at Mark to see what was the matter, only to be greeted with the harrowing sight of his shirt¡¯s front dampening and darkening with blood from a deep crimson hole in his chest.


    ¡°Mark?! MARK!¡± Don screamed, holding Mark¡¯s head in his hands and turning it to make eye contact. ¡°Stay with me, listen, don¡¯t pass out! Stay with me!¡±


    But Mark said nothing in response, and all that stared back at Don were a pair of eyes with the life behind them already gone.


    Knowing now Mark was long past being able to hear him, Don also knew there was nothing else he could do. Nothing except grab Mark¡¯s limp, still bleeding corpse in his arms and scream his throat out in grief and despair.


    Vera could do equally nothing in her shock at what had happened, unable to even get up from the floor she was on, or look away from the bloodshed before them.


    Gerald, on the other hand, was doing much worse, if that was possible. Kneeling before Vera after coming up on top of their scuffle, he stared in guilt, disbelief, and shock indescribable by words at the gun in his hand, then at Don screaming over Mark¡¯s body, then back at the gun. He refused to believe what he¡¯d just done with his own hands, regardless of his intent. Yet here was the truth, laid out before him in all its ghastly, horrible glory. He was the one holding the gun, and the one bullet it had fired moments ago was in Mark¡¯s chest. There was no excuse. Mark¡¯s blood was on his hands.


    All of this was too much for Gerald to handle. He was on the edge of literally crumbling from the pressure of his actions having brought upon the death of an innocent man ¨C a man whose only crime had been just trying to do the right thing. The pressure was so suffocating, Gerald wished it would physically strangle his airway and put him out of this irreversible misery of his doing.


    Then he remembered he still had the gun held in his trembling hand.


    Another single gunshot filled the house, followed by a scream from Vera. There was the clatter of the gun falling to the floor again. Then it was followed by the thump of Gerald¡¯s body joining Mark¡¯s, forming beneath it a small red puddle of blood trickling from a gunshot in his temple.


    Provoked again from the second crack of gunfire, the infected horde outside the windows growled and snarled even louder. But still being unable to locate the source, their animalistic instincts prompted them to instead turn their attention in the direction the noises seemed to have come from, which was right in front of them. What followed as a result was the threatening sounds of countless hands repeatedly slapping against glass, as if the infected were blindly trying to get through and make their way towards whatever had caught their attention. And what with these sounds coming from all directions, it was enough to make any individual hearing them inside the house feel more trapped and surrounded than ever.


    However, the two still living people couldn¡¯t be less concerned about any of that, much less whether the glass panes would be able to hold the constant slapping. Rendered completely unmoving where they lay, their minds were just as frozen as their bodies, left to repeatedly question one thing in light of everything that had transpired so far; had their fear and paranoia driven them into an insanity just as horrible and deadly as that of the infected¡­ if not more?

 1st Interlude

    All of Annabelle¡¯s friends were just as silent as the characters at the end of the story by the time she had finished telling it. For a second, Annabelle had the same heart-sinking feeling she had when she first woke up after the accident and spoke in a crawling voice, ¡°¡­guys?¡±


    A short sigh of somewhat relieved tension came from the seat tightly pressed up to Annabelle¡¯s legs, putting her mind back at mild ease. Annabelle also sighed and exclaimed, ¡°Don¡¯t be so quiet like that, you¡¯re gonna make me think I¡¯ve been telling a story to corpses this whole time!¡±


    ¡°Sorry!¡± Malcolm apologized, ¡°The story just got so tense by the end, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do or say anything while listening¡­¡±


    ¡°Was it that scary?¡± Asked Annabelle. ¡°Because I don¡¯t wanna scare any of you more than we already are, what with our current situation-¡°


    ¡°I thought we promised each other not to talk about that until help arrived.¡± Luna interrupted.


    This time Annabelle was the one who apologized, saying, ¡°My bad. I was just concerned about you guys, since one of the reasons you suggested I do this is so that we won¡¯t feel as scared as before¡­¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re not.¡± Henrik reassured Annabelle. ¡°If anything, we¡¯re grateful that your story just now proved Luna¡¯s theory right. Turns out I really did get way too invested in how scary your story was that I forgot to be scared for all of us including myself.¡±


    Annabelle could vaguely make out the obscured silhouette of Luna¡¯s head nodding in agreement as she said, ¡°Likewise, I hope this did the trick for you too, Annabelle ¨C though judging by the way you sounded throughout the whole thing, I assume it did?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Annabelle asked in slight confusion, to which Henrik added, ¡°Yeah. Now that Luna mentioned it, during your story, you didn¡¯t sound too different from all the other times you talk with us about your specialty.¡±


    Her eyes widening in surprise ¨C albeit unseen by the other three due to the darkness ¨C Annabelle muttered, ¡°I didn¡¯t even notice¡­¡± but even that seemed to prove the point further when she actually stopped to think about it. The fact that she¡¯d failed to notice anything else about her surroundings, including her own tone of voice, went to show how much her storytelling had distracted her mind from slipping into any worries regarding their accident. A far cry from her earlier state of mind, which couldn¡¯t do anything except constantly ¨C and uselessly ¨C worry about what bad things might befall on them, reassurance of help on the way be damned. And if they had to endure the unspecified amount of time for them to be rescued in that kind of mindset, Annabelle would say they were all better off knocked unconscious again. And even that was one of the last things all of them needed, considering Luna¡¯s other theory from earlier about why it was important for them to stay awake.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Well Mary Shelley,¡± Malcolm said encouragingly, ¡°Whatever you¡¯re doing, please don¡¯t stop no matter what.¡±


    In spite of herself, this got a little laugh out of Annabelle, who said, ¡°Nice to see nothing can make you lose your sense of humor¡­¡±


    Malcolm chuckled back, before adding, ¡°On a more serious note though, how did you come up with a whole story from the top of your head after Luna asked you to tell us one?¡±


    ¡°Actually, I didn¡¯t.¡± Annabelle responded, ¡°It was an idea I had around in the back of my mind that I haven¡¯t yet had the chance to write down.¡±


    ¡°If you did write it down and showed it to one of your professors, I¡¯m sure they would¡¯ve been impressed.¡± Said Luna. ¡°I mean, I thought it was really clever of you to leave whether or not that one guy was infected purely up to interpretation.¡±


    Flattered, Annabelle asked, ¡°Really?¡± to which Luna half-jokingly replied, ¡°Most thought-provoking ambiguity in a story I¡¯ve seen since Henry James¡¯ The Turn Of The Screw.¡±


    Annabelle tilted her head in mild surprise at this. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you too were familiar with that text.¡± She said.


    ¡°Just thought that would make a good comparison, seeing how you studied it in one of your classes.¡± Was Luna¡¯s response.


    For a moment Annabelle wondered to herself whether she ever recalled telling her friends about that particular part of her classes. But she brushed it away as Henrik told her, ¡°Personally I was surprised you chose to have the main conflict be between the human characters rather than between them and the zombies. Not a bad surprise though, if anything, I thought it was a unique take.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the compliment.¡± Said Annabelle. ¡°If you ask me, human conflict in the face of disaster has always kind of been part of the zombie subgenre. From the all-time classics like Night Of The Living Dead to modern masterpieces like Train To Busan, there¡¯s so many examples where you can see exactly that. All I did was take that existing notion and do my own thing with it.¡±


    ¡°And a mighty fine job you did at that too.¡± Henrik complimented again, to which the other two nodded in agreement.


    Annabelle added, ¡°That was also why I never specified what exactly caused the outbreak and just left it ambiguous ¨C the story¡¯s less about how it began and more about what happens during it, like a lot of the best examples of its kind.¡±


    ¡°Like I said, I really liked how you used ambiguity in the story.¡± Luna replied to that. ¡°Aside from what you just mentioned, it really leaves the story lingering in your head for a long time even after the end, because it makes you keep debating with yourself whether the guy was infected but just didn¡¯t want to die, or was actually innocent like the main character had hoped.¡±


    ¡°That poor cop though, speaking of which.¡± Malcolm mumbled. ¡°I was hoping at least he would make it to the end alright. Especially considering he was the only one who didn¡¯t lose his mind despite also having his doubts and all.¡±


    Annabelle nodded at that. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Even though she was the one who¡¯d come up with the story, she also couldn¡¯t deny how bleak the ending had ultimately come across. ¡°As much as it sucked to kill him off, I just didn¡¯t think the ending would¡¯ve had the same impact if the character who died was one of the two people who antagonized Gerald, regardless of whether said antagonizing was justified.¡±


    ¡°If you got any more stories other than this,¡± Malcolm asked, ¡°Do you have one that¡¯s a bit more, how should I put it, ¡®light at the end of the tunnel¡¯? Not that I didn¡¯t like the one you just told, but for a palate-cleanser of sorts I¡¯d like to hear something brighter.¡±


    Annabelle heard Luna and Henrik agree to Malcolm¡¯s suggestion and replied, ¡°Understandable. And you¡¯re in luck too, because I do have a story in mind that¡¯s not as dark as the last one.¡±

 Wooden Clutches (1/3)

    If you¡¯re familiar with Shel Silverstein¡¯s 1964 children¡¯s book ¡°The Giving Tree¡± to any extent, then you most likely have a good idea of its core premise as well ¨C that of a young boy and the titular tree developing a friendship that lasts a lifetime, even after the tree has gotten fully trimmed and cut down in the name of giving its dear friend anything and everything he ever needed.


    And if you¡¯re wondering what this brief summary of ¡°The Giving Tree¡± has to do with anything, its purpose was to prepare you for the story you¡¯re about to read now. A story that, very much like the aforementioned children¡¯s book, concerns the friendship between a boy and a tree, as well as the events this particular bond would transpire into¡­


    ***


    The Schmidt family had a house located on the far edge of the suburbs it was built in, accompanied by a spacious yard surrounded by wooden fences. And accompanying that yard was a big tree.


    The Schmidt family also had a young son, named Dalton. And like with many parents who had young children, Mr and Mrs Schmidt often saw Dalton playing on his own by creating an imaginary friend to ¡°keep him company¡±, so to speak. Whenever Dalton was let out to play in the yard, he could always be seen doing so next to the tree, whether it was climbing the lower branches under his parents¡¯ supervision or racing his toy cars around the big wooden trunk.


    But most of all, Dalton was always seen talking to the tree like it was a sentient being. This lead Mr and Mrs Schmidt to come to the conclusion that their young, imaginative son had made it his imaginary friend. Quite different from most other kids, whose imaginary friends were just empty spaces they pretended were characters they could interact with. But the couple didn¡¯t think much of it and humored his behavior. They wanted Dalton to simply be able to have that sort of fun while he could, figuring that through the right parental guidance, Dalton would eventually learn to separate fiction from reality and grow out of his phase of imaginary friends, like all kids did.


    However, there was one other thing Mr and Mrs Schmidt didn¡¯t know about their son¡¯s imaginary friend, which was that his imaginary friend wasn¡¯t imaginary at all. Whatever Dalton did with the tree, none of it was the least bit make-believe. Dalton really was able to interact with the tree despite its immobility, believe it or not.


    If anyone else was to come across a seemingly sentient tree like this one, no doubt they¡¯d end up either questioning their sanity or donating the tree to a lab for science. But not Dalton. Being the innocent, carefree child he was (as most children are at that age), when he began to see the tree for what it was, he saw in it not a hallucination or a scientific anomaly, but a friend unlike any other.


    In other words, aside from the obvious point that said friend was an inanimate plant rather than a human being or even an animal, the fact everyone who knew ¨C mostly Dalton¡¯s parents ¨C dismissed Dalton¡¯s interactions with the tree as nothing but pretend play had formed a sort of exclusive bond between the two. The tree was happy to have a true friend it could openly be its real self towards without unwanted judgement (like being experimented on or treated as a result of mental illness). And Dalton was happy to share a friendship with such a unique, fascinating being others could never dream of coming across and befriending like he had, as you¡¯re about to see.


    ***


    ¡°Hey, wanna see what I got for you today?¡± Dalton asked after he¡¯d excitedly run across his house¡¯s yard and up to the tree, hiding something behind his back.


    From somewhere between the tree¡¯s branches up above, a tiny beetle emerged and crawled down the trunk until it was level with Dalton¡¯s face. Taking the beetle¡¯s sight staring into his own as the tree answering yes, Dalton revealed what he¡¯d been hiding, which turned out to be a picture book.


    Holding the book up closer to the tree as if wanting it to get a good look at the cover, Dalton said, ¡°Mommy found this at the library and said she thought I¡¯d like it, and I did! So I wanted to read this to you and hope you like it too! It¡¯s almost like a story about you and me!¡±


    Sure enough, the cover of the book featured a small boy standing in front of a great tree. The boy was catching an apple falling from one of the tree¡¯s branches, which was drawn to look like it was deliberately handing the red fruit down to him.


    Dalton sat down against the bottom of the tree¡¯s trunk and began reading the book aloud to it. Much to his happiness, he could tell the tree¡¯s reaction to his reading was as positive as he¡¯d hoped it would be. During the scene in the book describing the boy carving his and the tree¡¯s initials in the tree¡¯s bark, Dalton saw a couple of centipedes crawl near him down the trunk to form a heart shape with their bodies, similar to the carved initials from the book. When Dalton read about the scene where the teenaged boy asked his wooden friend to give him its apples so he could sell them for money, the tree (surprisingly) dropped a ripe apple right onto Dalton¡¯s lap for him to eat. And by the time the last page of the book was turned, Dalton felt a sweet-smelling blossom gently fall into the palm of his hand, once again courtesy of his own wooden friend.


    ¡°So you did like it?¡± Asked Dalton, to which the tree answered through the beetle from earlier spinning almost enthusiastically around in circles on the bark.


    The sight made Dalton laugh out in joy. ¡°I know I said the book¡¯s almost like a story about you and me, but you know what?¡± He took a moment to put the book down and hug the tree around its trunk the best he could (the trunk was much thicker than his body width), then said, ¡°I¡¯ll never cut you down and stuff like in the book. Let¡¯s keep being friends just like this, forever till the end!¡±


    As if the tree agreed to his words, Dalton thought he felt the smell from the blossom in his hand grow much sweeter than before, and he giggled happily.


    Noticing this, Mrs Schmidt came over to Dalton and gently pulled him away from the tree, saying, ¡°Honey, you might ruin your clothes from doing that, do be mindful.¡± Before dusting his shirt and pants. She then saw the book Dalton had laid down on the ground and added, ¡°Same with this, we don¡¯t want to stain something that doesn¡¯t belong to us, now do we?¡±


    Dalton hastily picked up the book back in his hands and dusted it the same way his mother had done so to his clothes. ¡°Sorry, I forgot.¡± He said.


    ¡°Well then, let¡¯s do our best not to.¡± Mrs Schmidt replied. ¡°So if you¡¯re done reading the book to that ¡®friend¡¯ of yours,¡± she took a second to eye the tree with disbelief, albeit still playing along for her son, ¡°Why don¡¯t we take it back inside just to be safe, where it can¡¯t get dirty?¡±


    Dalton nodded to that in agreement, and held his mother¡¯s hand as she began to walk him indoors. Looking over his shoulder at the tree, Dalton called to it, ¡°I¡¯ll be back!¡± and saw some of the tree¡¯s leaves slightly rustling in response as if there was a breeze about.


    Mrs Schmidt chuckled a little. ¡°I assume your ¡®friend¡¯ there liked the book too?¡±


    Dalton nodded again, to which Mrs Schmidt continued to humor him, ¡°Of course it did. It¡¯s almost like the story was made for you two, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Dalton laughed. Truth be told, even at his young age he could tell his mother didn¡¯t believe a single bit about anything he said about the tree, and most certainly never would. And for that matter, nor would anyone else either. Despite that, Dalton was not at all bothered by any of it. What did it matter whether or not others believed his friendship with the tree was real, just so long as he and the tree itself knew it was indeed real? If anything, at least as far as Dalton could see, it was because only he and the tree knew that made what they had special. For the less of something there is, the more that something is worth.


    On top of that, if his parents¡¯ attitudes towards the tree told Dalton anything, it was that other folks most likely wouldn¡¯t have the same understanding he and the tree had between them. Meaning they wouldn¡¯t be able to see the tree the same way he did. That, no doubt, would inevitably lead to unwanted conflict, which was the last thing either of them needed if they really did want their friendship to last. Not that Dalton had actually tried to get anyone else to see the tree¡¯s true nature (if he could even convince anyone to do so in the first place), but he didn¡¯t think he ever would. This was just something he considered way too special and rare to take such a chance and risk potentially tainting it. Thus, he figured he¡¯d rather keep it unchanged like this for as long as he could, preferably for the rest of his life.


    And apparently the tree also agreed with Dalton¡¯s opinions on such matters, because as mentioned earlier, Dalton was the only one it trusted more than well enough for them to interact the way they did in the first place. It couldn¡¯t bring itself to trust Dalton¡¯s parents as much as it trusted Dalton himself due to how dismissive they were of its interactions with their son. Nor could the tree bring itself to do so with pretty much anyone else, whom the tree had no idea of knowing whether they¡¯d understand it the same way Dalton did. Similarly to Dalton, the tree too was unwilling to take such a risk out of uncertain fear of something unwelcome getting in the way. As far as both of them were concerned, their friendship was best left alone.


    And so that was indeed how their friendship remained for years to come ¨C kept only to themselves as a secret of some sorts. However, with any passage of time, change is inevitable for everything, and even this special, seemingly unbreakable bond between two unlikely friends was no exception.


    This was because while the tree remained mostly unchanged as it stood rooted to its spot in the yard as it always had, Dalton didn¡¯t. Much like the boy in the story he once read to the tree, he too had to grow up. And the more he did, the less time he began to spend with the tree, his attention now more on making friends from his own kind (AKA humans), schoolwork, and various other life responsibilities that came with growing up.


    Even when Dalton was home for either the weekends or holidays, his time was spent mostly on family and friends. He only occasionally stopped by the tree to briefly convey a few words to it if he had some minutes to spare and no one was around to see it. Eventually, this reached a point in which the tree barely saw Dalton at all as the boy entered his high school years.


    To say that all of this didn¡¯t sit well with the tree would¡¯ve been an understatement. Having to stand in the side of the yard unable to do anything but watch its one and only friend live his life but also seemingly drift further away from itself was agonizing beyond words. In the tree¡¯s view, at this rate it wouldn¡¯t be long before Dalton was truly gone, leaving it here all alone again forever, not at all unlike the life it had lived before it first met Dalton.


    The tree refused to return to that torturous past of pure solitude, when the only attention it ever got from other living beings was birds treating it the same way they treated every tree in the world, or stray dogs coming through loose gaps in the fence to use the bottom of its trunk as a bathroom. A whole life¡¯s worth of perpetual loneliness was bound to drive any sentient being stark raving mad. But at least with other sentient beings such as humans, as the tree came to see in what little of them it saw within its limited vision, they had each other to rely on in times of need. On the other hand, who did the tree have except itself to confide its solitude-driven madness in? And of course, this only drove the madness further and more painfully into the tree, like a poisonous dagger fatally spreading its deadly substance through the veins of the victim it had stabbed.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    This was all the more reason why Dalton meant so much to the tree ¨C a much, much bigger reason than what was previously mentioned. Dalton had been the tree¡¯s light at the end of the long, dark tunnel of isolation that used to be its life. For the first time in forever, the tree was free from the suffocating agony of being alone, saved by company it had never imagined it could ever have. For the first time, rather than living only because it couldn¡¯t die, it had something worth living for.


    And most of all, that very reason was now slowly but surely slipping away, none of which the tree was going to simply stand still and take, if it meant the hellish life it had lived before was to repeat itself. If it meant never having to be alone again, the tree was willing to do anything to achieve that.


    To make sure that Dalton would never leave its side. That he would stay no matter what it cost.


    ***


    Passing through the fence gates of his home as he came back from another day at high school, Dalton eyed the tree on the side of the yard as he crossed it. He then pausing for a second to think as well as to make sure there wasn¡¯t anybody around, before walking right up to it.


    ¡°Hey buddy,¡± Dalton said to the tree in the same mildly awkward way one would address an old friend they haven¡¯t spoken with in ages ¨C which was exactly what he was doing here. ¡°I don¡¯t have any homework today and all my friends just happened to be busy with personal things, so I figured I ought to see you again properly just like old times.¡±


    The tree¡¯s leaves rustled subtly in response, to which Dalton noticed and added, ¡°I know I haven¡¯t had a lot of time to be with you, if at all, and to that I do have to say sorry. It¡¯s just that, you know, life happens and all.¡±


    He paused again to step closer to the tree and patted its trunk in the friendliest manner he could muster up, continuing, ¡°But know this; regardless of how little time we got to have together these past years, you¡¯re still my friend just as much as I hope I¡¯m still yours, and there hasn¡¯t been a single moment in which I forgot about you.¡±


    Another rustle of leaves came, this time followed by a couple of beetles scurrying down the tree trunk and stopping at eye level with Dalton, who tried to lighten up the awkward mood by saying, ¡°I mean, how could I? We basically live under the same roof ¨C not literally, but you know what I mean¡­¡± and weakly laughed at his own lame attempt at a joke.


    Dalton wished he could express his thoughts to the tree in better words than this. It was just that after so many years of not interacting with the tree this up front, he didn¡¯t know what were the right words to say, nor what his wooden friend would make of it.


    That said, he did mean every word he just spoke, because despite having no proper time for the tree from being preoccupied with everything else in life, he also missed it at the back of his mind. It was a feeling that simply saying a couple of words at it or catching glimpses of it outside his bedroom window couldn¡¯t get rid of. Just because he¡¯d gone on to make a handful of friends at school over the years didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d forgotten about the one he used to cherish his time with as a child. He didn¡¯t care that his parents thought he was long past the age of playing with imaginary friends. The tree was no imaginary friend; it was real, and he intended to continue treating it like one as he had all these years ago.


    As his mind got itself lost in these thoughts, however, Dalton saw the two beetles before him skitter around in circles on the tree¡¯s bark in an excited manner he was all too familiar with.


    Grinning up at the tree, Dalton found more confidence in his voice as he said, ¡°Great to see you¡¯re just as happy to spend some time with me again as I am.¡± And gently patted the tree on the trunk again in the same way he would do so on the back of any of his school friends.


    Some more excited skittering around in circles later, the beetles then climbed back up the tree to where they first came while their gaze still remained on Dalton, as if beckoning him to follow them.


    Dalton stood there thinking for a second, looked around at the surrounding houses again, and put his backpack down on the ground beside the bottom of the tree¡¯s trunk. His grin spread wider, and he asked, ¡°Shall we then, for old time¡¯s sake?¡±


    A single blossom fell from one of the branches for Dalton to catch in his hand, which he took as a yes. Temporarily pocketing the flower, he proceeded to climb the tree all the way up to where he could sit securely between several branches thick enough to support his teenage body¡¯s weight.


    ¡°Oh yes, just like old times!¡± Dalton exclaimed, just as delighted as the beetles that beckoned him seemed to be, both of which were now buzzing above his head while several more came into sight to greet their long-time-no-see companion.


    Briefly huffing out a quick sigh of happiness, Dalton even found himself cracking jokes with more confidence than before, regardless of whether they were actually funny or not, saying, ¡°Well buddy, if you remember that storybook I read you a long time ago, the ¡®boy¡¯ came to his own tree at roughly around my age and asked her for all her apples to sell and make a buck¡­ I say this because you don¡¯t have to worry about me doing anything like that to you right now. I¡¯m only here to hang out, and that¡¯s all. Besides, what would I even do with that much apples in real life anyway?¡±


    In response to this, Dalton saw the tree drop a readily ripe apple from a higher branch right into his lap. Bringing it closer to fascinated eyes and examining the shiny, blood-red surface of the fruit, Dalton complimented the tree, ¡°Some things never change, do they ¨C I will never not be amazed by that instantaneous apple-generating ability of yours.¡±


    The various bugs around him made a bunch of skittering noises as if laughing along with him, then quieted back down as he added, ¡°Though I might have to wait a while to eat this, as grateful as I am for the gesture ¨C I gotta go inside for dinner in like an hour.¡±


    Dalton saw the tree¡¯s leaves rustle yet again in the windless air and added right after, ¡°Which is why I¡¯d like to make the most out of that hour with you. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Rustle rustle. Dalton recognized that as the tree answering yes.


    ¡°Nice.¡± Replied Dalton, before he noticed something else fall into his lap. The rustling of the leaves had apparently shaken another flower loose from the tree¡¯s branches, because that was what Dalton saw and picked up from his pants¡¯ leg.


    Out of old time¡¯s sake again, Dalton brought the flower close to his face and took a whiff. Sure enough, there was the sweet signature scent of the tree¡¯s blossom he was also all too familiar with. What he hadn¡¯t expected though, was the scent coming across as much stronger than how he remembered it. It felt like he had sprayed a dose of one of those really expensive perfumes right in front of his nose.


    Dalton addressed this to the tree, but this time it didn¡¯t do anything in particular as a response. Eventually finding it to not be that big a deal, Dalton simply laughed it off, ¡°Guess all that excitement you had at the thought of hanging out with me again went into this here flower.¡± And chuckled to himself as he rested his head against the branch behind him to sit more comfortably on the spot.


    ***


    ¡°Dalton! DALTON! What are you doing up there?!¡±


    Dalton woke up with a startled jolt and looked around him in a dazed confusion. For a surprising moment he couldn¡¯t see anything, which only confused him further. Then he realized it was because his surroundings had gone dark.


    As his sight adjusted to the darkness, Dalton tried to get up and make sense of what was happening. But then he remembered his current position and stumbled frantically where he sat to stop himself from accidentally careening off the tree¡¯s branches.


    Once that moment had passed, Dalton immediately recognized the voice that had just called out to him ¨C now saying, ¡°Careful, you¡¯re gonna fall out!¡± ¨C was his mother¡¯s.


    Looking down, Dalton saw his mother standing in the yard staring up at where he was, with her face full of both worry and bewilderment. His father was here as well, his arms outstretched right next to the tree as if to catch Dalton in case he really did fall.


    By now fully awake, Dalton then took a moment to take in more of his surroundings, and realized the reason everything was so dark was because it was past sunset. Looking back down at his worried parents, Dalton asked, ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯d like to ask you too.¡± Mr Schmidt replied. ¡°Not only were you not picking up our calls as we were coming back home, but when we got here we found you up in this here tree fast asleep!¡±


    This raised more questions than answers inside Dalton¡¯s mind as he cautiously but quickly made his way down the tree¡¯s trunk and onto the ground. How much of a deep sleep had he been in to not wake up until this late into the evening, as well as not hear his cell phone ringing in his pocket at all if his parents had indeed called him? Above all, how did he even manage to fall asleep on the tree in the first place?


    However hard he thought, Dalton had no idea how any of that could¡¯ve been remotely possible. Therefore he couldn¡¯t give his parents any proper answers when they asked him the exact same things on their way into the house. He couldn¡¯t so much as remember anything that may or may not have happened between him climbing the tree to talk with it and him falling asleep¡­


    ¡­except perhaps a familiar scent that came across as much stronger than the last time he recalled ever smelling it.


    This narrow sliver of a memory flashed past Dalton¡¯s mind and he looked over his shoulder at the tree in the yard, just before the front door closed behind him. Remembering this particular detail sent a strange feeling down his spine that he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on. What could possibly be the meaning of this?


    The feeling lingered throughout the whole rest of the night, from during his well-overdue dinner to preparing the bed for some sleep. Just before turning the light off in his bedroom, Dalton took one last glance out his window at the tree. As he did, that unexplainable feeling prodded at his curiosity more than ever. This came with the weakest of sneaking suspicions he hoped was just his confusion getting to his head and leading it to weird places, as confusing unanswered questions constantly nagging at one¡¯s mind typically did.


    Dalton shook off this train of thought and decided to call it a day for now. He turned off the light, crawled into bed, and soon fell asleep ¨C but not before reminding himself to question the tree about today¡¯s incident the next time he could afford to properly talk to it. Something about that nagging feeling seemed to tell him that the tree would know a few things he didn¡¯t.


    ***


    Dalton didn¡¯t get a chance to do what he¡¯d kept in mind that night for several days, as the typical high school routine of schoolwork, studying, or spending time with his closest peers took up most of his time again. However, once the weekend arrived, Dalton made no haste in confronting the tree as soon as he was done with breakfast and a few minor chores around the house. His parents weren¡¯t home at the moment, and he still had a good half hour left before he had to leave the house himself for a promised hangout with some friends, so now was a better time than any.


    Hoping no passersby would happen to come across and witness him holding a conversation with a plant like this was a bad M. Night Shyamalan horror movie, Dalton walked up to the tree and first started with a, ¡°Hey, how are you doing?¡±


    There was the recognizable rustle of leaves from above. Dalton took this as his cue to get to the point, ¡°Look, I just wanted to ask you something ¨C you know when I fell asleep in your branches after climbing onto you several days ago, and had to be woken up by my parents? This may sound kinda silly, but would you happen to know anything as to what happened that day for me to doze off that badly?¡±


    This time the tree showed no reaction. Not even a single movement from its leaves or a bug coming down to visually provide a reply.


    Interpreting this as the tree also not having an answer to that, Dalton nodded at it, yet that same nagging feeling from that particular night came back right then and there. Because of it, the next thing Dalton knew, he spoke again to the tree before he could even think it over, ¡°Do excuse me for the weird question¡­ it¡¯s just that I have an equally weird feeling in my gut that made me think you might know ¨C for whatever reason, that also brings to mind something about the blossom you gave me that day smelling kinda funny as well¡­¡±


    Again, the tree remained still and silent. This left Dalton to wonder to himself what on earth had made him bring up such a seemingly unrelated and minor detail in regards to this matter. Could it be that maybe, just maybe, a part of his mind suspected the tree had something to do with him unknowingly falling asleep on it?


    Dalton had to snap himself out of that thought, as he mentally asked himself, ¡°Why would you suggest such a thing?! You were seriously thinking of accusing your lifelong friend for something unexplainable that just happened to occur around it?¡±


    Though he hadn¡¯t said these thoughts out loud at all, Dalton still found himself looking guiltily up at the tree as if he had indeed verbally uttered his embarrassingly false accusations towards it. Thankfully for him, he didn¡¯t need to linger on that guilty thought any longer, as when he looked up at the tree, he saw a centipede scurrying down the trunk to look back at him intently, before going back up to where it came.


    Dalton knew what the centipede was doing. No doubt it was beckoning him up the tree like the beetle had done on the day he fell asleep. The tree was asking him to come and play again.


    Dalton shortly glanced at his watch, then turned back to the tree and replied, ¡°Sorry, but I haven¡¯t got that long today. I promised my school friends I¡¯ll be seeing them, so I gotta get going soon.¡±


    Having said that though, Dalton walked up to the tree to give it a friendly pat on the trunk, adding, ¡°Still, that¡¯s not until like in twenty-five minutes or so, meaning I can stay for a brief while to chat¡­¡± before he felt his nose being enveloped by that same strong flowery scent from last time.

 Wooden Clutches (2/3)

    Dalton opened his eyes. The first thing to greet his groggy sight was the brilliant blue afternoon sky, which for some reason seemed to be in front of him. Accompanying it was someone¡¯s head staring at him from a lopsided angle and speaking to him, ¡°Are you alright? Can you hear me?¡±


    It was then Dalton noticed a slightly prickly feeling all over his entire body¡¯s backside. He reached behind him to feel it and realized it was the feeling of grass ¨C he was lying down in the yard.


    Kneeling down next to him was someone Dalton soon recognized as one of his neighbors. As soon as Dalton fully came to, she asked him again, ¡°What happened out here?¡±


    Getting to his feet and brushing stray strands of grass off his back, Dalton asked the same thing. The neighbor explained she just happened to be passing by a moment ago when she witnessed him lying motionless beneath the tree. What was worse, as she described as the thing that made her know for sure something was terribly wrong, Dalton had what looked like dozens of beetles and centipedes crawling all over him.


    The neighbor shivered with goosebumps all over herself just from relaying the scene to Dalton, adding, ¡°Weirdly enough, they all scattered away into that tree as I came into the yard to check if you were alright¡­ and thank goodness you are, I was only seconds away from calling an ambulance.¡± And she pointed at the tree Dalton recalled himself talking to before he woke up on the ground just now.


    Despite the confusion of having to take in so much at once right out of the blue, Dalton thanked the neighbor and confirmed to her he wasn¡¯t in need of medical services (¡°Are you sure? After all those bugs you were covered in?¡±), before allowing her to carry on with her day.


    Once the neighbor was out of both eye and earshot, Dalton turned to the tree with just as much confusion as before to ask, ¡°Did you happen to see anything while I was out cold? Did I just keel over for no reason in front of you?¡±


    For the third time that day, the tree responded only with stillness. Finding it weird that the tree wouldn¡¯t answer a question about something it was bound to have witnessed, Dalton then tried to ask his friend if covering him with its bugs was its idea of attempting to wake him back up, when he suddenly remembered something else.


    ¡°Oh, bloody hell!¡± He exclaimed, and pulled out his phone to see it was already mid-afternoon ¨C a good several hours past the time he was supposed to meet up with his friends! To add insult to injury, Dalton also noticed several missed calls from them, who were no doubt wondering why he was absent with no explanation.


    With his mind not knowing whether it wanted to feel panicked, embarrassed, or just downright upset over this, Dalton quickly dialed one of the numbers. He prayed he wouldn¡¯t be greeted by a bunch of angry voices shouting where the hell he was.


    To Dalton¡¯s relief, what he actually heard was a voice of half-puzzlement and half-concern asking, ¡°Dalton, what happened, man? Did you sleep in or something to not show up or even pick up our calls? Or is there anything wrong over there?¡±


    Knowing what actually happened would be too difficult for his friends to understand, Dalton replied, ¡°Something like the former, I fell a little ill and forgot to call y¡¯all while in bed. Sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°No, no, don¡¯t be sorry over that of all things. Can¡¯t help it if you suddenly feel under the weather.¡± The voice on the phone reassured Dalton.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Dalton sighed, oblivious to the presence of a single beetle hovering behind his head, as if listening in on the conversation. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, I¡¯ll be alright after a good day-long rest at home. See you Monday at school.¡±


    Once the call ended there, Dalton turned back to the tree again, ¡°You really don¡¯t know what happened while I was knocked out?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Alright¡­¡± Dalton shrugged and proceeded to climb the tree, ¡°Can¡¯t keep asking you questions that you don¡¯t have the answers to¡­¡± What with the time he was hoping to spend with his friends today being long gone, Dalton figured he might as well spare a little for the friend he had right here.


    He could tell the tree was happy for it, from the way several of its bugs came into view to skitter around in their typical excited manner, as well as the blossoms from the tree¡¯s branches giving off their sweet scent again.


    Speaking of which, it was when Dalton propped himself down in the same place he¡¯d fallen asleep in days ago and noticed that very smell he remembered yet another thing. The more he thought back to what he did before he woke up on the grass, the more his mind latched onto the one sure thing he did remember from then; the weirdly strong flower scent emanating from the tree.


    Dalton stared up at the flowers blooming on the branches above his head in a perplexed glance. It had only been twice so far, but even twice was enough to make him question as to why was it that every time he found himself knocked out near the tree ¨C whether in its branches or just next to its trunk ¨C the last thing he recalled was the tree¡¯s blossoms smelling way stronger than they should¡¯ve. Enough to make him think there was potentially a correlation between them.


    Slightly nervous from not knowing what exactly to expect out of this, Dalton cautiously asked the tree, ¡°I know what I said earlier, man¡­ but just asking, did you ever notice the smell of your flowers has gotten a tad too strong these days? I might¡¯ve brushed it off the first time I noticed, but now I¡¯m actually kinda concerned. Like, is there something wrong?¡±


    Silence again.


    Dalton sighed a little and didn¡¯t bring up the subject again during the rest of the time he spent with the tree that day. Aside from the tree itself not answering him for some reason, there was also the same unexplainable nagging feeling from several days ago coming back stronger than before. Particularly now that this strange incident had happened twice. He just couldn¡¯t explain for the love of him at the moment as to why, but that feeling told him it was probably for the best that he didn¡¯t confront the tree about such matters.


    ¡°Then to who, though?¡± Dalton thought to himself. Nobody, not even his parents, ever believed the tree he called his ¡®friend¡¯ was an actual sentient being, what reason would anyone have to believe him now if he ever confided the matter in them? The only thing people would believe in him would most likely be that he needed the nuthouse for genuinely thinking an inanimate plant could possibly do any of the things he said the tree did with him. And even with that bleedingly obvious issue aside, what did it matter to other people if the flowers on a tree in his home¡¯s yard smelled funny? Even more, did he have any way of proving there was something wrong about it without it involving him confronting the tree, which his gut was still telling him not to do for unexplainable reasons?


    With these thoughts racing in his mind even long after he¡¯d bid the tree goodbye for now and went back inside the house, Dalton hoped he¡¯d be able to somehow find an answer to all this. And also, that these weren¡¯t anything like signs to something bigger.


    And little did Dalton know right then, he¡¯d get the answers to those questions the hard way ¨C a way Dalton wouldn¡¯t wish upon even his worst enemy.


    ***


    When Dalton went to school on Monday (and greeted by his friends who were glad to see him okay after saying he was ill), his homeroom teacher announced homework in the form of a group project, which required working together with those of the students¡¯ choice. Needless to say, Dalton and his friends teamed up into a group of four with no questions asked.


    The homework wouldn¡¯t be due until next week, but Dalton¡¯s group figured they didn¡¯t want to procrastinate and ¨C as procrastination typically did ¨C forget about the project until it was too late. So they decided it was best to do it as soon as possible and get it over with while they still could.


    Which was why after school that day, all four of them headed towards Dalton¡¯s house to begin their homework. Both Dalton and his friends usually did stuff like this best when they were on their own, so seeing how his parents both worked late ever since his final year at middle school, Dalton had agreed with the other three that they¡¯d probably have a lot of time to do their work at his place.


    ¡°Should any one of us get distracted by anything and try to drag the others into it as well, please remember to snap us out of it by any means possible.¡± One of Dalton¡¯s friends, James, piped up as a joke as they approached the Schmidt house.


    The other two friends, Hector and Scott, laughed along with James at this, while Dalton joined in, ¡°I ought to tape a big poster saying ¡®you should be working¡¯ where we can see it, in case we all get too distracted to remember that.¡±


    The playful chatter continued all the way into the front yard where, unbeknownst even to Dalton, the four boys were being observed with the utmost discontent by a familiar wooden presence, as well as the countless beady eyes of the insects it accompanied.


    As they were halfway to the front door, Dalton paused for a moment and said, ¡°Hold on, lemme get the keys to the door¡­¡± then proceeded to fish around in his backpack¡¯s pockets for them.


    James, Hector, and Scott momentarily paused with Dalton during this. Unfortunately, and again, unbeknownst to any of them, this very brief moment was enough for the seething spectators to spring into action.


    Just as Dalton got the keys to his house with a ¡°Got it.¡± And turned back to his friends, he saw all three of them suddenly slap one of their hands to the sides of their necks in the same way someone would swat at a mosquito, accompanied with looks of mild surprise and annoyance.


    Just as slightly startled as them at this sudden simultaneous motion, Dalton asked, ¡°What is it?¡± to which Scott perplexedly tilted his head and continued to feel at the one particular spot on his neck, ¡°Dunno, I just felt like a small prick on my neck or something.¡±


    ¡°You too?¡± James and Hector asked in unison.


    Only just noticing what looked like three bugs flying away from near them and somewhere in the direction of the tree in the yard, Dalton initially didn¡¯t make much of this and simply told his friends, ¡°Let¡¯s all get inside first, then see what¡¯s up with your necks.¡±


    With that, Dalton walked the rest of the way up to the front door and was just done unlocking it, when he felt something was a little off. He immediately noticed it was because his friends hadn¡¯t followed him there and turned around to ask them if they were coming. But no sooner had his head rotated so much as an inch did Dalton also hear the bizarre noise of what sounded like the dry, strangled coughs of choking. And when he¡¯d fully turned in the direction of his friends, he was greeted with a sight that nearly gave him a heart attack.


    It turned out the noises were coming from James, Hector, and Scott, who were all collapsing onto the ground before Dalton¡¯s eyes, rapidly clasping at their throats. Upon frantically running over to them and getting a closer look, Dalton saw to his horror that all three of their necks were swelling up at an impossibly alarming rate. It looked more and more like balloons had been surgically implanted underneath their neck skin and were now being blown up by an invisible air pump.


    In half a blink of an eye, Dalton got out his phone and dialed 911. But the heart-stopping fear and panic in him quickly began to make him dread the worst just as quickly as it drained all the strength in his legs, causing him to also fall to the ground. Even as he told the operator everything from his address to the severity of the emergency, it almost felt like his friends weren¡¯t going to make it. Their eyes were only showing their whites as they rolled up in their sockets, while their breathing by now was reduced to a bunch of pained gurgling that barely sounded like any air was going into their lungs at all. Not to mention the neck swelling was only going from bad to worse as it started making dark-colored veins pop up here and there on the rash-red skin, reminiscent of something straight out of a zombie movie.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    And the worst part of it all, was that there wasn¡¯t anything Dalton could do or even try to help until the ambulance he called for arrived. None of the neighbors he¡¯d called out to for help had any idea what was happening and likewise, what ought to be done about it. In a desperate last resort to keep them alive long enough, Dalton even attempted CPR, which made absolutely no difference to so much as ease his friends¡¯ ever more constricting airways. So, much to his absolute devastation at his powerlessness, Dalton was only forced to cower in a trembling, sobbing heap in the middle of a circle of nervous people watching his friends continuing to suffocate.


    After an ambulance did eventually arrive and carry the three boys off to the ER, Dalton¡¯s parents came back from work a while later and inevitably heard of the shocking news through both their son and neighbors. Rushing to the hospital where Dalton had followed his friends to, they were relieved beyond words to see he was at least unscathed. However they were also worried at the sight of him looking as if his fear had cost him his sanity; they¡¯d found him sitting still in one of the benches out in the hospital¡¯s hallways, his eyes unfocused and his hair reminiscent of someone who got electrified.


    He appeared so traumatized, when the doctor approached the families of James, Hector, and Scott standing nearby to tell them their boys were still alive, it didn¡¯t even seem to register with him. But then again, the doctor also added that the boys had fallen into a coma of unknown causes, which wasn¡¯t the most comforting news to anyone hearing them.


    ¡°We also can¡¯t seem to determine for now what exactly has caused the extreme swelling in their necks¡­¡± Dalton faintly heard the doctor continue, before asking the families if any of them ever had a history of severe allergies to anything. This finally got a reaction out of Dalton, as he very slowly turned his head in the direction of the conversation with an unchanging, stone-faced expression.


    His mind, on the other hand, was a racecar in a straightaway. The moment he heard the doctor talk about the swelling, Dalton began seeing everything he could recall happening before his friends collapsed in a haunting slideshow inside his head ¨C those being James, Hector, and Scott slapping the sides of their necks and saying something about a mild prick, as well as the three bugs he¡¯d briefly seen fly away from them¡­ towards the tree. What was more, now that Dalton thought about it, the swelling also seemed to have started in the exact same places his friends had felt the pricks.


    As he gradually put two and two together, Dalton came to a shocking realization that at first turned his fear to bewilderment, then into anger and betrayal. That nagging feeling in his gut be damned, he was most certainly going to confront the tree about this, and this time get some answers from it. The way he was feeling right now, no kind of excuses, reasons, or silent treatments could dare make him overlook the heinous thing his childhood friend had done to his current ones.


    ***


    On Tuesday, after hearing of the harrowing incident that befell upon his group the other day, Dalton was assigned a new group to do the project with. But Dalton couldn¡¯t care less about any of that when there were much more important matters he needed to sort out. And he did indeed, as he hurried back home the moment school ended and walked right up to the tree in his yard. For once, he didn''t even bother to see if there was anyone around before speaking (there wasn¡¯t, but again, that was the least of Dalton¡¯s worries at the moment).


    ¡°What in the goddamn hell was that yesterday?!¡± Dalton shouted up at the tree. ¡°You think I didn¡¯t see what you did to my friends with those bugs of yours?! Now you¡¯ve put them in the hospital and a coma even the doctors can¡¯t tell when they¡¯ll ever wake up from! Explain yourself!¡±


    As expected, the tree remained silent. Dalton didn¡¯t, however, and kept shouting while his blood boiled, ¡°Don¡¯t you try to ignore me this time! You¡¯re gonna answer me and you¡¯re gonna do it right now when I tell you to!¡±


    Still the tree gave no response.


    ¡°I suppose that weirdly strong scent from your flowers putting me to sleep was your deliberate doing as well, huh? What are you playing at?!¡± Dalton demanded more aggressively than before. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right, I know the flowers were your handiwork too by now!¡±


    More stillness. By now Dalton was infuriated so badly he was even beginning to throw empty threats at the tree just to make it answer him, ¡°I said talk to me, dammit, or do I have to go get the chainsaw in the garage?!¡± because as enraged as Dalton might¡¯ve been at the tree, it was nothing more than his current emotions at the moment which made him say such things ¨C because beneath the surface, a law-abiding citizen like himself honestly didn¡¯t have it in him to deliberately go out of his way to harm a sentient living being, regardless of the situation or the nature of said living being.


    This finally got a reaction out of the tree, in the form of more of that accursed flowery scent blowing down on Dalton. The moment his nose first picked up the slightest of it, Dalton tried to cover his face with his sleeves, ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t, I¡¯m not falling for-¡°


    But this time, the sickeningly sweet aroma didn¡¯t knock Dalton out of consciousness. Instead, Dalton found himself staring out at the yard and the house from a different part of the lawn than where he¡¯d previously been standing. In his confusion at this sudden change in perspective, Dalton tried to look around himself properly, but to his horror, discovered he couldn¡¯t move his neck ¨C or other parts of his body, for that matter ¨C in any way. Only his eyeballs were able to dart about here and there in sheer panic as Dalton tried with all his might to break free from the mysterious invisible force immobilizing him. He couldn¡¯t even call out for help, as not even air seemed to come out of his mouth with every attempt, like when you try to scream yourself awake during sleep paralysis.


    In all this immensely terrifying predicament, Dalton didn¡¯t even notice the sky above him had abruptly changed from the bluish-orange of late afternoon to the fuller blue of just before noon. By the time this bizarre change finally registered with him though, something else happened.


    The front door to his house opened, and out stepped his parents. For some reason they looked rather cheery and showed no acknowledgement to their son stuck standing motionless in a part of their yard. Out of both instinct and his panic at the moment, Dalton uselessly tried to shout at his parents to help him out of whatever was happening to him. Of course, absolutely no sound or breath came out, nor did his parents turn their gaze towards him.


    And then from somewhere between Mr and Mrs Schmidt, out came Dalton as a small child.


    If Dalton wasn¡¯t immobilized already, he surely would¡¯ve frozen on the spot with utter shock. How was it that he was seeing his childhood self like this when he was standing right here as his present self? Was any of this even really happening before him?


    Dalton kept watching with wide-open eyes as his parents told his child self a few words he couldn¡¯t hear from where he was stuck at, then sat down in a couple of lawn chairs propped up on the other side of the yard. Meanwhile, child Dalton excitedly ran up to present day Dalton with a huge smile on his face and holding something behind his back, before looking up at his older self and saying, ¡°Hey, wanna see what I got for you today?¡±


    Dalton then felt a ticklish sensation run somewhere down his front. Rolling his eyes downwards as far as they would go, the very edge of Dalton¡¯s vision managed to catch a glimpse of a tiny beetle scurrying down his body to meet its own eyes with those of child Dalton¡¯s.


    Before Dalton had any time to make sense of where the beetle could¡¯ve possibly come from, child Dalton revealed the thing he was hiding behind his back, which turned out to be a picture book with a green cover. The cover featured a small boy standing in front of a great tree. The boy was also catching an apple falling from one of the tree¡¯s branches, which was drawn to look like it was deliberately handing the red fruit down to him.


    ¡°Mommy found this at the library and said she thought I¡¯d like it, and I did! So I wanted to read this to you and hope you like it too! It¡¯s almost like a story about you and me!¡± Said child Dalton, and he sat down leaning against present day Dalton to read the book aloud to him.


    A bigger wave of shock coursed through Dalton¡¯s immobilized body as he realized what this was all about. There was no mistake he must be reliving one of his childhood memories of hanging out with the tree. Except right now, he was in the tree¡¯s position, which most definitely explained the spot he was standing on, the beetle, and his inability to move.


    Dalton¡¯s theory was proven correct when he witnessed his child self¡¯s following actions matched up exactly with how he remembered the day he first read the storybook to the tree, from the promise of never cutting down the tree like what was shown in the book, to his mother dusting child Dalton¡¯s clothes while saying, ¡°Honey, you might ruin your clothes from doing that, do be mindful.¡±


    As Dalton saw his child self go back inside the house with the book and call to him over his shoulder, ¡°I¡¯ll be back!¡± the scene abruptly changed again, this time shifting to a whole series of Dalton¡¯s past memories quickly flashing by in front of him. In a blur of fast motion, Dalton saw himself grow up to elementary school age, middle school age, and eventually into his present age as a high school student. During this, all of his past selves could be seen spending less and less time with the tree ¨C or from Dalton¡¯s current perspective, himself ¨C while also spending more and more time with either the friends he sometimes brought over, or his family at home. All while leaving present day Dalton all alone in the corner of the yard, unable to do anything but stand and watch as past Dalton, the only living being who ever cared for and loved him, kept growing ever more distant with age.


    ¡°Wait, what the hell am I thinking?¡± Dalton thought. ¡°These are just my memories told from the tree¡¯s perspective, why am I suddenly having such thoughts?¡±


    But even as Dalton became aware of this, it didn¡¯t stop those very thoughts from growing inside his head. The longer Dalton witnessed his memories flash past, the more these thoughts pressed down on his mind like the walls of a trash compactor. And the more they did, the more they also felt as if they were doing so physically. Dalton soon found himself unable to handle the agonizing amount of pain coursing through every fiber of his psyche.


    This was torture beyond anything his body or mind could ever comprehend. Oh how at that moment Dalton wished he could just seize his head with both hands and scream at the top of his lungs at the tree to stop whatever it was doing this instant. But the mental pain only continued to drive Dalton mad as neither his limbs nor his voice would listen to his desires for all of this to end already.


    Tears flowed from Dalton¡¯s cheeks like two watery centipedes making their way down his face and past his mouth as it screamed, mouthed, or whatever, ¡°GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!¡±


    Dalton fell backwards onto the ground, wheezing heavily and his eyes still streaming. He was back where he belonged, complete with his ability to move and speak again, the late afternoon sky above him, his home and neighborhood back in their present-day state¡­ and the tree¡¯s presence towering over him from where he sat.


    After everything he¡¯d seen and felt from the vision the tree had given him, it all made sense to Dalton now. He understood why the tree was doing these ghastly deeds ¨C it wanted him to stay with it forever. The flower-induced sleepiness had been its way to make him be with it for as long as it could when they spent time together. Not only that, the tree had determined for itself that Dalton¡¯s friends were being an interference between the two of them, what with him spending more time with them than it now. So it had decided to take James, Hector, and Scott out of the picture.


    Dread like he¡¯d never felt before in his whole life washed over Dalton. The thing that stood before him in the corner of the yard was no longer the dear friend he cherished his childhood memories with. An obsessive madness had taken that friend away and replaced it with this monster who had harmed innocent lives with no hesitation, and god knew what else it was willing to do, if it could keep him all for itself, for possibly the rest of his life.


    What would become of Dalton¡¯s life under the dangerously besetting presence of the tree? What would the lives of other people close to him become under it? After witnessing the tree¡¯s capabilities and what it was willing to do with them to achieve its goal, Dalton was most certain the answer couldn''t be anything pleasant.


    Trembling from head to toe, Dalton looked up at the tree and tried to convince it with the best words he could think of in his absolutely terrified state, ¡°Th¡­ This is wrong¡­ You can¡¯t keep me by your side forever at the cost of my and other people¡¯s lives¡­ sometimes you have to let go of certain things and carry on, that¡¯s part of life too¡­ please don¡¯t do this¡­!¡±


    At this, countless beetles and centipedes crawled out from seemingly every gap of the tree¡¯s roots, and began slowly crawling across the grass towards Dalton. Dalton wanted to get up and away from the advancing bugs, but his immense fear coupled with the visions earlier seemed to have taken all the strength from his limbs. This simply left him unable to do anything but feebly shuffle backwards saying, ¡°Think about what you¡¯re doing, you¡¯re seriously gonna try and keep me until I die? What¡¯s your plan after that then?!¡±


    The bugs just kept on advancing, followed with an aggressive rustling of the tree¡¯s leaves from its branches. It was as if the tree was telling Dalton it didn¡¯t give a damn about any of that, just so long as it could make him stay with it for as many days to come as possible.


    Dalton sensed this as well, and dread came at him in much bigger waves than before. The tree¡¯s insanity was clearly far past the point of listening to reason, so it was no use trying to talk his way out of this. Then Dalton remembered one of the things he¡¯d said to the tree earlier while trying to get answers out of it and shouted, ¡°You keep doing this and I¡¯m getting that chainsaw for real!¡±


    This was the last thing Dalton managed to say before the bugs were literally on him. They climbed up every inch of his body they could reach in a nasty swarm, including both over and under his clothes. Before Dalton could do anything about it, his skin was crawling with the most unpleasant sensations of the bugs¡¯ tiny legs and pincers.


    ¡°Get off! Stop! STOP!¡± Dalton screamed, swatting and sweeping his hands at any bugs he could get them on. But with every handful of bugs he got off himself, more kept crawling on. And to make things even worse, Dalton saw out of the corner of his eye more movement at the base of the tree.


    Dalton didn¡¯t think he could possibly feel more fear than he was already feeling. How very wrong he was when he saw the thing moving and coming out from between the tree¡¯s roots was a snake. Sporting scales of a similar color to the tree¡¯s bark and a pair of menacingly red beady eyes, the snake opened its mouth to reveal fangs as sharp as needles before starting to slither towards Dalton.


    ¡°STOP! NO!¡± Dalton screamed at the top of his lungs, now beyond scared and unable to even think.

 Wooden Clutches (3/3)

    ¡°Dalton? What¡¯s going on?¡± A voice suddenly spoke.


    The crawling feeling of all the bugs on his skin abruptly stopped the moment this voice was heard, and Dalton looked up.


    One of Dalton¡¯s neighbors was standing just outside the yard behind the fences, staring at him with a puzzled look. Dalton recognized him from the day he called an ambulance for his friends.


    Dalton looked at him, then at his own body ¨C which he saw was now suddenly completely free of the bugs he¡¯d been trying to get off ¨C then back at his neighbor. The utter confusion that this out-of-nowhere, albeit extremely relieving, halt of an escalating situation brought was so jarring, Dalton could only manage an unfocused, ¡°Uhhh¡­?¡± in response.


    Still puzzled, the neighbor walked over to Dalton and helped him onto his feet, asking, ¡°I heard you screaming on my way home, so I thought I ought to come and see what was wrong ¨C you were on the ground with a really pained expression by the time I arrived, did something happen?¡±


    Dalton searched inside his mind for the right words to say. At the same time he also searched around the yard, unsure if the bugs and the snake had been just a hallucination or not. Eventually, he found his proof in the form of one heart-stopping sight.


    The snake had slithered back into the base of the tree, but Dalton could still see its unmoving head poking out from between the roots, with its red eyes staring most intently at him.


    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± The neighbor asked, having noticed where Dalton¡¯s glance was at. He too looked in the direction of the tree, but didn¡¯t appear to notice anything off. The snake¡¯s bark-colored scales had camouflaged it so well in its hiding place, one would have to actively look for signs of the creature in order to find it. Dalton only knew it was there because he¡¯d already seen it slithering out from beneath the tree.


    Dalton probably would¡¯ve told his neighbor about what had just happened, regardless of whether he took his words seriously enough. That was how scared Dalton was at the moment. But one almost murderous look from the snake¡¯s eyes made him think twice about that. It was as if the tree was using the snake as a surrogate to threaten Dalton that if he so much as attempted to escape its clutches or do something about it, may it be retaliating against it or getting help, it wouldn¡¯t hold anything back to put a stop to it. And if looks could kill, Dalton thought his neighbor would¡¯ve dropped dead right then and there, which he interpreted through the snake as exactly what the tree intended to do to him if Dalton spilled the beans.


    For both of their safety, Dalton put up a straight face and shook his head, then replied in a tone of fake confidence, ¡°No, it¡¯s nothing¡­¡±


    The neighbor turned his worried glance back to Dalton and said, ¡°You¡¯re most certainly not feeling well after yesterday¡¯s incident, that¡¯s the best I can explain whatever you were doing on the ground. How about you get inside and rest or something? And don¡¯t hesitate to get medical help if you feel worse or sick.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Dalton replied, and proceeded to walk up to the front door. But even as he did, and as he took one more glance at the tree on his way in, he thought of those last words by his neighbor and doubted to himself whether any sort of help would be able to do him any good at this point.


    Those doubts went on to balloon into a greater sense of doom looming over him, even with his parents¡¯ presence later that evening at dinner.


    ¡°You¡¯re awfully quiet today¡­¡± Mrs Schmidt spoke to him from across the table. ¡°Is there anything on your mind?¡±


    Dalton looked up at his mother and father. For a split second, he thought since they were all indoors, it would be safe to somehow convey to them what was deeply troubling him. Whether they would believe his story was a matter that could wait. He was way too desperate to rid himself of the tree¡¯s hell before it had a chance to take over his life.


    However, that was when Dalton felt a familiar crawling sensation run up his leg under the table, and his heart skipped a beat for the umpteenth time that day. Looking down while pretending to pick up more food from his plate, Dalton inspected his legs. What he saw was a beetle and a centipede that had somehow managed to follow him indoors undetected, and were right now glaring at him from his lap. The beetle silently snapped its pincers at him, while the centipede threateningly waved its feelers in the air as Dalton stared at them in sheer horror.


    Under normal circumstances this would¡¯ve been just a minor surprise that could be solved with just a few swats of a hand, or a dose of bug spray. But this was no ordinary situation, nor were these an ordinary beetle and centipede. Between what Dalton had seen the tree¡¯s bugs were capable of, and the way these two were visibly threatening to spring into action the moment he showed any sign of trying to get rid of them, there might as well have been a sniper aiming a laser scope rifle through the kitchen window.


    ¡°Dalton?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Dalton looked back up at his parents, quickly hiding from them the fear in his eyes. If he wanted them safe, it was best he left them out of this. He took a moment to chew his food, then said, ¡°Guess I¡¯m just way too worried about my friends after yesterday¡­¡±


    Mrs Schmidt sighed deeply through her nose. ¡°Yes, we understand¡­¡± She replied with a tone of great sympathy. ¡°We¡¯re all worried for them, I suppose¡­ but I¡¯m afraid I must say that for the time being, we don¡¯t really have much to do except wait and hope for the best¡­¡±


    She frowned as if it physically pained her to break that part of the ugly truth to her son, to which Mr Schmidt added, ¡°Experts know best ¨C we¡¯ll let the doctors do their work and bring them back to health in time.¡±


    Dalton nodded, and uttered what felt like the best response that would both not raise any suspicions from his parents and not provoke the bugs still on his lap, ¡°That seems right.¡±


    After that, dinner returned to its casual pace and mood. Dalton¡¯s mood, however, was anything but casual. He was constantly sitting on pins and needles from the bugs watching him throughout and after the whole thing, thoroughly making sure he didn¡¯t ¡°step out of line¡±, so to speak. Even as Dalton got into bed later that night, he could still hear the soft, subtle skittering of the bugs crawling around the walls of his bedroom in the dark. And despite still being awake when he heard said noises, the experience was nothing short of a nightmare for Dalton.


    So imagine how much of a toll Dalton¡¯s mind took when this nightmare continued for countless days, weeks, and months to come. Every day from waking up in the morning to coming back after school, and even sleeping, nothing he did at home was not kept under surveillance by the tree¡¯s many bugs always somehow finding ways to sneak into the house. It didn¡¯t matter if the bugs never did anything threatening, as that was only because Dalton could never bring himself to try anything that would free him from the pressure of these relentless observers. One wrong move and it could be his parents ending up in a hospital ward with life support next, or even one of his schoolmates.


    The latter was a result of the tree really pulling no punches anymore now that Dalton knew what it wanted with him, and thus desired to make fully sure Dalton ¡°behaved¡± in its favor. This even included when he was away from home, and likewise its sight as well. For that, the bugs went so far as to do what they never did before ¨C they continued their watch on Dalton far beyond his home by following him wherever he went.


    Because of this, Dalton also found himself unable to pay visits to his hospitalized friends, or even get close to anyone else at school, for that matter. He feared any interaction with his peers that the bugs saw as anything more than just a casual conversation for things like classes would strike them as him trying to make friends with others. As for the hospital visits, those were out of the question for obvious reasons. Granted, Dalton didn¡¯t have a way of knowing for sure whether that really was the tree¡¯s thought process, but after already losing three of his friends to it, he was taking no chances.


    And of course, the worst part was how much Dalton felt utterly powerless in all of this. He knew the tree was successfully isolating him from the rest of his world in its scheme to have him for itself, yet there wasn¡¯t a solution to it as far as he could see. Moving out of the house and into another one situated as far away from the tree as possible when he became of age couldn¡¯t be done, as long as the tree kept its sight on him at all times courtesy of its insectile minions. On top of that, Dalton also feared the wrath that the tree might inflict on him if he dared to run away from it in such a manner. That is to say, whatever terrible thing he could be faced with that would give him no choice but to return to the tree in the end.


    Similarly, going against the tree was another out-of-the-question option. Already Dalton had witnessed unforgettable terrors more than enough to scar him for life even without doing anything to the tree, other than maybe that one empty threat he once shouted at it. In that case, who was to say he wouldn¡¯t be faced with far worse if he ever attempted to rebel? The tree was Big Brother, its bugs and snakes the Thought Police, and he himself the poor unfortunate souls living under the totalitarian regime with no chance against the almighty oppressor.


    Being stuck between a rock and a hard place was not enough to describe this torture that slowly and surely ate away at Dalton¡¯s mental state over time. This was a purgatory more hellish than anything ever written in Dante¡¯s Inferno, one that made Dalton wish this was all just a nightmare he could sooner or later wake up from. A nightmare in which by now he spent every day at school as a loner who could never bring himself to socialize in any way under the eagle eyes of a monster that had him trapped tightly in its clutches. A nightmare in which not even his family could help him out of with their love and care. And how could they ever, when both Dalton and the tree very well knew they¡¯d have an easier time believing in the existence of the Tooth Fairy more than the fact that their son¡¯s ¡°imaginary friend¡± was ruining his life?


    Speaking of, with every day that turned to weeks and every week that turned to months, Dalton found himself looking back longingly at his childhood. Back when life was much simpler and wasn¡¯t under a constant, overbearing terror. Whatever future he¡¯d dreamed of for himself back then, none of it seemed to matter anymore, not when the tree had taken it all away from him. A long-gone life he was never going to get back, or even make up for its loss.


    Gradually, this train of thought and the indescribable pain it brought became all that Dalton¡¯s mind filled up with. And with nowhere or no one to vent it out to, all of that pain snowballed into an immense pressure, just as great as ¨C if not more than ¨C the tree¡¯s obsession over him, to the point he just couldn¡¯t stand it any longer. In this insanely anguished state of mind which had built up over nearly a year by the time the following scene happened, Dalton was unable to see anything other than that this was no way for him to live, and he had to bring an end to it as his escape.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ***


    After returning home from school on the day he determined would be the day he¡¯d finally see the end of everything, including his unbearable pain, Dalton stepped into his house¡¯s yard. There, he stopped by the tree to have a few last words with it.


    ¡°Happy, are we now?¡± Dalton weakly muttered up at the tree, which replied with a few rustling leaves as usual.


    Dalton nodded sarcastically at this, before adding, ¡°Good ¨C of course you¡¯d be happy to have your lifelong friend never leaving your side like he was glued to you or something.¡±


    The tree¡¯s leaves rustled again, this time in a fashion that Dalton could tell was of confusion at his feeble tone of voice and uncharacteristically snarky comments.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing¡­¡± Dalton muttered again. ¡°Just wanted to check. Wouldn¡¯t want a good, sweet mood like that to be rained on by anything, would we? Of course we don¡¯t¡­¡± And with that, Dalton quickly marched across the rest of the yard into the house.


    The tree, however, was not one to simply gloss over such a strange change in behavior from its so-called ¡°friend¡±, and sent out the snake from beneath its roots to follow and keep a closer eye on Dalton than the bugs could. Of course, all of this was unbeknownst to Dalton himself, who hastily dropped his schoolbag on the floor the moment he stepped indoors (which the snake had to jerk quickly out of the way to avoid as it silently slithered after him) and kept marching at the same pace across the floor, towards the kitchen.


    Dalton did hear the bugs skittering somewhere along the kitchen walls in between his footsteps but he didn¡¯t care ¨C not even they¡®d be able to do anything on him once he was done with this.


    Before he knew it, Dalton was at the kitchen counter, and before the bugs he couldn¡¯t see where they were at but couldn¡¯t be bothered with either also knew it, he snatched up one of the knives from a nearby knife holder, and promptly went to stab the blade into the side of his neck.


    But the tip of the knife hadn¡¯t so much as reached an inch near Dalton¡¯s skin when he screamed in a mix of both surprise and pain, before involuntarily dropping the kitchen utensil onto the floor.


    The snake, which had sensed something was about to go awry the moment the tree sent it after Dalton, had braced itself for anything including the worst. Thus, it was able to act accordingly as soon as it happened. Once it had followed Dalton into the kitchen and saw him attempting to put himself out of his near year-long misery, the snake had leapt up and bit down on the hand holding the knife to stop him, and the rest was history.


    Dalton looked down at the floor to see both the fallen knife and the snake, the latter of which angrily hissed up at him before taking the former in its mouth.


    ¡°You little¡­¡± Dalton growled, with no time to even think about how it had sneaked inside under his nose. He then immediately reached for the knife holder again, when he pulled his hand back with a scream ¨C this time one of shock and horror.


    The hand that the snake had bitten was rapidly turning to wood even as he reached for another knife. Despite his current state of mind, Dalton stopped right there while his terror-stricken eyes witnessed his soft, light peach-colored skin become stiff, brown tree bark with the change now having spread up to his elbow. And judging by the way he could neither feel or move the turned parts of his arm, Dalton could only assume the flesh, blood, and bones inside were also just as wooden as the skin.


    The next second, Dalton heard the snake¡¯s hiss again from somewhere behind him, followed by the feeling of the creature biting him this time on the leg.


    He tried to turn around and look at the snake so he could do something, anything, about it. But no sooner had he noticed the same numbness in his wooden arm now felt in his bitten leg did he trip over it and fall to the floor. Sure enough, Dalton rolled up one of his pants¡¯ legs with his still normal hand to see his bitten leg was also wooden up to the knee, in the same way as his other arm.


    And it was onto this limb-shaped wooden branch of a leg the snake slithered, glaring at Dalton with pure malice in its ruby-like red eyes. It threateningly bared its sharp teeth as it slithered ever so closer towards his face, like it was non-verbally saying there would be much more of that if he tried again.


    Despite his earlier actions, Dalton knew by instinct this was far from what he wanted no matter the circumstances or what had been going on in his head until now. Naturally the tree wouldn¡¯t dare kill him off, so if the snake was to continue, he could only expect to see a fate far worse than death, all while the tree would be able to keep having its way with him. He could most certainly imagine the snake repeatedly biting him until his whole body became something like a humanoid tree. And he was equally certain that his wooden oppressor would somehow find a way to ensure it stayed together forever with itself.


    ¡°No, stop! Stop! I¡¯m sorry!¡± Dalton desperately held both his normal and wooden hand in surrender at the snake. Surprisingly, the snake immediately stopped its advance, but Dalton kept pleading for hopefully more convincing effect, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for real! I acted out of stupid impulse, I never should¡¯ve done that! Please don¡¯t do this!¡±


    For a tense few seconds that felt more like minutes, the snake did nothing but pause where it lay and continue to stare at Dalton. Then to his utmost relief, the moment ended when the snake finally slithered off him and into a corner, still watching him intently. Not only that, but Dalton also heard the unseen bugs skitter off out of earshot. Lastly, he saw his wooden limbs go back to normal, with both the skin and feeling in them coming back at once.


    After checking if he really was fully human again and not part tree anymore, Dalton then noticed something he had unknowingly knocked to the floor as he fell down. It was a slightly cracked picture frame of him and his parents, taken during his childhood in front of a nice seaside view.


    The second his eyes fell upon it, Dalton felt them well up with tears and an immense explosion of sobs burst out of him. Exactly for what reason though, he couldn¡¯t tell; whether it was how persistent the tree was in keeping him to the point it wouldn¡¯t even let him off himself to escape this torture, or the fact he¡¯d been so shortsighted as to consider THAT of all things as a legitimate solution.


    What in the hell had he been thinking? Even if he did succeed in his attempt, would the nightmare have ended too? Or would it have found new victims to latch onto in the form of everyone he would¡¯ve been leaving behind, like his family? Aside from obviously being beyond devastated at his demise, would they be safe from the tree¡¯s wrath? Could the tree possibly unleash its worst terrors on them in its rage of realizing the ¡°friend¡± it had tried to keep for so long was no more? And even worse, as much as the tree had taken everything from his life and left it with nothing to live for, death wouldn¡¯t do anything to change that. Whether this hell continued or if he just died right here and now, he¡¯d still be left with nothing. It was either ending his precious, one-and-only life on these devastating last moments, or letting it waste away and rot for god knows how many more days to come. Was any of that really what he¡¯d wanted for himself, or had his pain and fear blinded him from seeing the truth?


    It was then that Dalton came to the realization he wished he could¡¯ve had much, much sooner; it wasn¡¯t his life he¡¯d wanted to end, it was the thing which had made it unbearable in the first place.


    ¡°The question is though, can I end it?¡± Dalton thought to himself. This whole time the reason the tree was able to keep him trapped in its clutches was because he was too scared of what could come from fighting back. And the reason he was scared was because he more than knew the tree would do the most unhinged acts to stop anyone and anything from getting in its way.


    Dalton looked down at his arms and legs, as if frightened that they might turn to wood again the moment he attempted anything at the tree, such as taking his empty threat about the chainsaw in the garage and making it a reality.


    ¡°But if I did do something like that, it might just turn me into another tree to stop me, or ¡­¡± Dalton thought again, when another thought immediately followed after; or what?


    Like he¡¯d thought before, the tree¡¯s intention with him was anything but to kill him. Even if it was for self-defense, it wouldn¡¯t do anything to dare kill the one living being that mattered to it, wasn¡¯t that right? So assuming Dalton really did go all out on the tree, it certainly would attack in self-defense, and possibly leave him in a state nobody in their right mind would want to put themselves in¡­ but still, not kill him. And if losing his life was what Dalton feared about fighting back, then by this logic, he shouldn¡¯t have anything to lose and thus, no reason not to try giving his all to end it. His life was already in enough of a purgatory as it was, and he¡¯d also seen for himself through the snake that none of the threats the tree made ¨C or potentially would ¨C at him would be fatal ones.


    Dalton inhaled a deep breath from where he lay, took a couple of minutes to adjust himself in the right mindset, and stood up. He didn¡¯t even pay any mind to the snake still in the corner, which straightened up from a coiled position as it got startled by his sudden movement.


    Thinking to himself, ¡°It¡¯s do or damned.¡± Dalton made his way to the door leading to the garage. Of course, the snake followed him and through the door as he opened it and entered, where he inspected a shelf full of power tools on one of the walls.


    Dalton inhaled another deep breath, and braced himself. Then quick as a flash, he took the chainsaw down from the shelf and activated it.


    At the same time, the snake instantly sprang into motion and bit down on one of Dalton¡¯s legs. He felt it go numb up to the knee again as it turned to wood once more. But not even that was able to stop Dalton now, as he punched the big red button on another part of the wall which raised the garage door. Next, giving the snake no time to slither over to his other leg and bite down on that too, Dalton swung the chainsaw down and sliced the creature¡¯s head clean off.


    While waiting for the garage door to fully open, Dalton stared down at the lifeless head and body of the snake pooling red on the gray concrete floor in two puddles of blood. As he did, much to his surprise, he felt his wooden leg gradually turn back to normal, and he was able to move it once more in just a few seconds.


    ¡°That¡¯s a small one down,¡± Dalton muttered triumphantly, ¡°and a much bigger one to go.¡±


    Right then he noticed the mechanical whining of the garage door stop, and looked up to see it now open all the way, leading out into the yard where the tree could be seen standing in its spot, looking more menacing than ever.


    But for once, Dalton wasn¡¯t threatened. Rather, it was the tree that ought to be threatened by him this time around.


    As if to boost his courage before going in for the attack, Dalton let out a mighty scream at the top of his lungs, then charged straight at the tree, the chainsaw at the ready.


    Even as Dalton came running at it, the tree likewise sent out a huge swarm of beetles flying through the air and centipedes crawling through the grass towards its friend-turned-attacker.


    However, Dalton wasn¡¯t the least bit stalled by any of this. None of the centipedes either getting crushed under his feet or crawling up his pants to inflict countless stinging bites on his flesh could stop him from reaching the tree. Neither could any of the beetles sinking their pincers into his arms stop him from cutting the chainsaw¡¯s blade right through the tree trunk.


    Not only that, but with every tiny bite the bugs left on Dalton¡¯s body, he could also feel the bitten parts turning to wood yet again like with the snake. But he ignored all of it, even the sight of his hands clutching the chainsaw becoming brown and stiff. For no amount of wooden numbness could make him give up on the possibly only chance he had at getting his life back once and for all.


    In no time Dalton felt the wooden petrification climb up all the way up to near his shoulders and hips. Any longer now and he was in danger of becoming that humanoid tree he¡¯d envisioned in his mind when the snake had first bitten him.


    But the chainsaw never once faltered. It only continued to slice through the trunk more and more, while Dalton kept screaming at it like mad for it to go all the way and tip the tree over already.


    Eventually, just when Dalton felt the wood creeping around his neck and nearly choked his screams to a stop, a massive splatter of blood exploded out the deep gash the chainsaw had sliced through the tree. The sheer force was enough to knock Dalton backwards and onto the ground, as well as send the whole tree tipping over the opposite way in a series of splintering creaks.


    Dalton remained still with pure bewilderment from where he lay, watching the tree break through the yard fences to come crashing down in the middle of the sidewalk. Only a blood-covered wooden stump was left where the tree once stood.


    For a long while Dalton kept lying on the spot in a daze. Right now, his mind simply couldn¡¯t register with anything else, such as all the people coming out of the nearest neighboring houses to either stare dumbfounded at the fallen tree or notice him soaked from head to toe in the tree¡¯s blood and ask him what in the world had just happened here. He ignored every one of the bugs that had been biting his body all over a second ago simultaneously dropping dead and falling off him, or the feeling in his limbs returning as they went back to their normal state of flesh and bone. He wasn¡¯t even aware that the moment the tree had fallen, the local hospital saw a miracle as three teenage patients whom he hadn¡¯t been able to see in almost a year suddenly woke up as healthy as ever from their comas.


    None of those were on Dalton¡¯s mind at the moment, which could only bring itself to think of two things over and over again; the tree was dead, and his nightmare was finally over.

 2nd Interlude

    Again, brief sighs of mild relief came from next to and in front of Annabelle once her second story came to an end. This was followed by a compliment from Luna, ¡°Another great story we enjoyed listening to, thanks Annabelle.¡±


    ¡°One with a happy ending as well, just like I asked.¡± Malcolm jokingly added.


    In spite of the aching in her body slowly returning now that she was done with storytelling for now, Annabelle had to laugh at that a bit. ¡°Oh well, horror doesn¡¯t always have to be about doom, gloom, and nihilism to be scary, you know¡­¡±


    ¡°True that.¡± Annabelle heard Henrik agree from the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°The whole thing was still pretty spooky like a lot of your works we¡¯ve seen so far ¨C which is why I found the ending to be all the more relieving and satisfying. I was genuinely rooting for the main character throughout the whole scene where he cut down the tree, and even would''ve cheered at his success if it wasn¡¯t for our situation.¡±


    In agreement, Malcolm almost immediately followed Henrik¡¯s words up with, ¡°Yeah, and now that I actually think about it¡­ you also did a good job generating tension for the story without even a single casualty happening among the human characters. That¡¯s a rare thing to see in horror, and definitely a bright change of pace from the bleak and brutal deaths we typically associate with it.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear you all thought of it that way.¡± Annabelle replied with gratitude, while Henrik replied to Malcolm¡¯s words, ¡°Like say, Poltergeist?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Malcolm mumbled, before thinking aloud, ¡°Huh, funny of you to mention that, when you consider that movie too features a creepy goddamn tree...¡±


    Hearing this, Annabelle nodded and said, ¡°You can say stuff like that have indeed worked as sources of inspiration when I came up with the story.¡±


    Annabelle also heard Luna shift in her seat a little like she was turning around the best she could and say, ¡°Interesting choice to choose a tree of all things to make a main antagonist out of. I never would¡¯ve thought you could make an inanimate thing as threatening as the tree in your story.¡±


    Malcolm let out a friendly snort at that comment, before speaking with weak laughter, ¡°Explain that to Annabelle!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Henrik asked in what sounded like confusion, presumably not knowing what that was supposed to mean. Annabelle, however, did know what Malcolm meant, and couldn¡¯t hold back a small snort of agreement in spite of herself.


    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Mumbled Malcolm in a joke apology, ¡°Not ¡®Annabelle¡¯ as in you, I meant the demonic cursed doll.¡±


    This time it was the other three who snorted with laughter, as Malcolm added, ¡°And if you lot are wondering whether I mean the one from the Conjuring franchise or the real life equivalent that the former was based off of ¨C I say, does it matter?¡±


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Normally if a group of people found themselves stuck in an accident similar to this, with one of them continuously cracking jokes like Malcolm was, it would¡¯ve been considered tactless. However, considering what they were holding these conversations for in the first place, Annabelle was frankly thankful for Malcolm¡¯s attempts to bring levity to an otherwise panic-inducing situation. And based on their reactions, so were the others, even though they knew it would most certainly pass if they kept waiting long enough. Hell, if it weren¡¯t for all of them being stuck to their seats, Annabelle would¡¯ve even welcomed some standup comedy at this point. Her fear and anxiety from when her phone died in the middle of calling for help seemed so far away the more she and her friends spoke. So if this was how things were to remain until they were out of here, Annabelle was more than fine with it as much as she hoped the rest of them were also.


    With that in mind, Annabelle said to Malcolm, ¡°Do be a bit more specific the next time you bring up either that doll or movie series in front of us.¡±


    Annabelle could make out Malcolm¡¯s shadowy silhouette in the dark nod at that, saying, ¡°Will keep that in mind.¡±


    ¡°So yeah, anyway¡­¡± Luna piped up, ¡°Way to make inanimate things like trees scary, as I was saying.¡±


    ¡°Though if I must say,¡± Malcolm added, ¡°You just had to tell a scary story about a tree¡­ while we¡¯re surrounded by trees, huh?¡±


    ¡°What, were you scared that any of the trees out there might send bugs and snakes after us like in the story?¡± asked Henrik, presumably as his own attempt to momentarily lighten things up for them. "Or even put us to sleep?"


    ¡°Like hell I was.¡± Malcolm replied, ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing from the fictional story we just heard any scarier than our current reality.¡±


    Annabelle froze on the spot she was immobilized to, not unlike the main character in her story when he saw his child self during his vision driven by the tree. A dismissible but still strange sensation had passed through her when she heard Malcolm say that; a sentence weirdly similar to what she used to think to herself back in the day when her state of mind was at its sickest.


    But the sensation was also short lived, as Annabelle was brought out of her train of thought and back to earth when she heard Luna mildly complain to Malcolm regarding what he said, ¡°Oh come now, don¡¯t remind us¡­¡±


    ¡°Sorry, pardon my bad choice of words.¡± Said Malcolm apologetically.


    Sounding like he wanted to change the subject to something else, Henrik quickly asked Annabelle, ¡°So you said things like the tree from Poltergeist inspired you to create this story? Are you saying there are other ¡®scary tree¡¯ horror stuff out there that we don¡¯t know of yet?¡±


    Luna immediately joined in, most likely thinking the same thing as Henrik, ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m curious too now that you mention it.¡±


    Putting the strange feeling from a second ago behind her and getting back into their conversation, Annabelle asked back, ¡°Why, want some recommendations to check out in future?¡±


    ¡°Would be nice.¡± Said Malcolm.


    Annabelle nodded to that, then went on listing a number of stories or movies she read and saw that featured any kind of scary plant life, all of which her friends enthusiastically paid attention to. Some minutes of that later though, Annabelle seemingly ran out of things to talk about at the moment. And at the same time, so did the other three.


    ¡°Now feels like a finer time than ever to hear another one of your stories, if that¡¯s okay with you.¡± Malcolm muttered. ¡°No pressure though, Annabelle ¨C it¡¯s just that me, Henrik, and Luna can¡¯t seem to think of anything else.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me.¡± Annabelle said somewhat reassuringly, ¡°I¡¯m just as relieved as you all to help keep ourselves at ease any way I can ¨C and yes, I do have more material on my mind to tell, so here it goes¡­¡±

 Lakefield High Lamentations (1/3)

    Lakefield High School got its name from being built next to a modestly sized lake. Once a fine bit of natural scenery long ago that only few people used to come and go occasionally, at one point there came the development of a city in its area. Following this, the lake became integrated as a part of said city. Eventually, the foundation of Lakefield High School saw the surprisingly untouched body of water now taking up a portion of its massive school grounds.


    Just like that, the lake became something of an iconic school landmark in no time. Both the students and staff of Lakefield High considered it an honor to be able to study or work near such a lakeside ¨C one so gorgeous, people could easily snap a photo of it to use as a great choice of background wallpaper for either their computers or phones.


    On top of that, the lake functioned as more than just a pretty sight to look at. Every day during recess, lunch break, or at the end of classes, students could be seen hanging out or relaxing at the shore closest to the school building. It really was the perfect spot for them to rest and take their minds off things after hours of tiresome studying, what with the tranquil atmosphere provided by the beautiful lakeview and its mostly preserved natural surroundings being enough to soothe any burnt-out individual.


    And today was no exception; right after their lunches had been eaten, many students made their way over to the lake where they either stood around or sat down by it to exchange small talk, read books, or play on their phones.


    Among these students, one second-year girl was walking around while her gaze shifted here and there, looking for someone. A brief moment later, she recognized another girl in the distance reading a book on her own underneath a tree.


    The girl immediately walked towards her, but then slightly jumped once she had gotten near enough. For a split second she had been startled ¨C albeit insignificantly ¨C by the cover of the book being read by her friend, which had a rather creepy image of blood dripping down the nightmarish grin of a chalk-white clown face embedded in an equally white background.


    This subtle reaction was still enough to make the reading girl notice an additional presence next to her and look up from her book, before greeting the other girl, ¡°Oh hi Alice, you¡¯re here.¡±


    The girl named Alice returned the gesture, ¡°Hey Winona.¡± And sat down by the tree with her friend. She then glanced at the book in Winona¡¯s hand and mumbled, ¡°That¡¯s one hell of a way to design a book cover, it actually surprised me a little when I saw it.¡±


    Winona couldn¡¯t help chuckling upon hearing this, saying, ¡°Oh well, scary book¡¯s gotta scare¡­¡±


    Being a person who didn¡¯t exactly fare with horror very well, Alice grimaced a bit. ¡°What kind of story does that novel tell to warrant such a cover anyway?¡± She asked.


    ¡°In a nutshell, something about a small Maine town being haunted by a bloodthirsty monster that likes to scare the hell out of its victims before eating them.¡± Winona replied rather matter-of-factly. ¡°The more scared the victims are, the tastier they become to the monster ¨C that¡¯s its logic.¡±


    Alice grimaced again at the sound of that. ¡°Some logic that is.¡± She mumbled, before remembering something and asking, ¡°Anyway, what was it that you texted me to meet you here and talk about?¡±


    ¡°Ah, right.¡± Said Winona, as her face fell just the slightest bit. ¡°Honestly, the only reason I¡¯ve even been preoccupying myself with reading was to try and get my mind off of exactly that.¡± She gave the bloody clown face on her book an upset kind of glance, and at that moment Alice had a sinking feeling she might¡¯ve hit her friend¡¯s nerve without meaning to.


    But then Winona glanced at Alice with her mouth in a somewhat apologetic smile while her eyes still seemed troubled. This formed a strange look on her face that Alice couldn¡¯t read. ¡°But then I figured it would be better for my mind to talk it out with someone¡­ which is why I called you.¡±


    Having a hunch as to where Winona seemed to be going with this, Alice reassuringly said, ¡°If you need to confide in me something that¡¯s bothering you, don¡¯t feel like you¡¯re burdening me with your problem by doing so. I mean, what are friends for?¡±


    Alice thought she saw a slight mix of astonishment appear in Winona¡¯s eyes as she said this, then added for further encouragement, ¡°Also, lest we forget that you never felt bothered by my own ¡®problem¡¯ when you found out about it that one time, and even went so far as to help me come out to others about it as well. You even told me yourself back then that it¡¯s only right for-¡°


    ¡°-for friends to look out for each other when in need, yes, I did say that.¡± Winona finished Alice¡¯s sentence for her, and nodded. ¡°I guess I had way too much going through my mind to forget about that of all things, after¡­¡±


    Alice waited for Winona to continue while she took in a deep breath of dismay, but once again the girl could guess what her friend was about to say next. Earlier that morning when the two had met at school before classes, Winona had half-excitedly, half-nervously told Alice she was planning to finally confess her feelings to a boy she¡¯d had a crush on for quite some time.


    ¡°I felt like I couldn¡¯t keep it to myself anymore because of how giddy the prospect¡¯s been making me,¡± She had said to Alice, ¡°but at the same time I was too embarrassed to let anyone else know just yet. So I was hoping I¡¯d be able to compose myself a lot better if I at the very least confided it in the one person who has my utmost trust aside from family.¡±


    Rather flattered upon hearing that was how much she meant to Winona as a best friend, Alice at the time had given Winona a pleasant yet encouraging smile and wished her good luck with that. This had prompted Winona to express much gratitude to Alice for helping her get that giddy weight off her chest. ¡°Thanks so much Alice, I really needed that¡­¡±


    So after such an exchange, Alice wasn¡¯t all that surprised ¨C but still felt sorry all the same ¨C when Winona said she¡¯d been rejected. ¡°¡­after hearing from Tyler that he¡¯s unfortunately not interested.¡±


    Alice also sighed and, unbeknownst to Winona, tried lifting a hand to give her a pat on the back for comfort. But then she hesitated and put it back down, her face turning the slightest bit of pink. Instead, she simply resorted to saying, ¡°I¡¯m really sorry to hear that, Winona. I can¡¯t even begin to imagine how much of a hard pill that must¡¯ve been to swallow¡­¡±


    ¡°After all this time I¡¯ve looked up to him and tried to get him to notice me, yeah.¡± Winona muttered. She sighed again and added, ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a good thing I didn¡¯t tell anyone here about how I felt towards Tyler except you. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to show my face at school if word got around.¡±


    ¡°Come on, don¡¯t say that like you¡¯re guilty of something.¡± Said Alice in the same encouraging tone she spoke in earlier. ¡°As if it¡¯s a crime to fall for a nice and talented pretty boy such as Tyler.¡±


    In spite of herself, Winona had to laugh at those specific choice of words Alice used to describe Tyler. ¡°I guess so.¡± She said.


    ¡°On top of that,¡± Alice added, her face reddening again without Winona noticing, ¡°It¡¯s not like you don¡¯t deserve him either. Who wouldn¡¯t fall for someone as amazing as you if they knew about it? Tyler just has no idea what he¡¯s missing out on, and nobody¡¯s to blame for that, including you.¡±


    Winona laughed again, this time from flattery. ¡°Oh, stop!¡± She chortled. ¡°You¡¯re just saying that to make me feel better.¡±


    Hoping Winona would continue to be oblivious to the flush she could still feel in her cheeks, Alice turned to look at her friend in the eyes and said firmly but kindly, ¡°Would I lie about any of the good qualities possessed by my best friend whom I¡¯ve had years to get to properly know?¡±


    Whether it was because she didn¡¯t have an objection to that or was finally reassured enough, Winona nodded and breathed a sigh of what sounded like relief this time, saying, ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    The two girls kept talking like that for minutes to come, until they checked the time and saw they¡¯d have to make their way back to class soon. By then Winona appeared to be feeling considerably better than when Alice had first seen her under the tree, much to her relief as well. Just like when she¡¯d first told Alice about her plans to confess to Tyler, it seemed talking her problems out in the trustworthy and comforting presence of her ¡°bestie¡± had lifted another weight off of Winona¡¯s chest.


    As they approached the school building, Winona let out one last sigh of the day and said, ¡°If I¡¯m simply not to Tyler¡¯s taste in ¡®ideal girls¡¯, guess I¡¯ll just have to accept that and let him go, huh?¡±


    Alice couldn¡¯t think of the right thing to say in response to that, so she just nodded silently.


    Seeing this, Winona shrugged and spoke in a manner of recalling an experience of being denied something great a long time ago, ¡°Oh well, we don¡¯t have terms like ¡®plenty of other fish in the sea¡¯ for nothing, so as upsetting as what happened today was, I can¡¯t be hung up on it forever, right?¡±


    Alice nodded without a word again as she and Winona entered the school hallways, after which the latter piped up, ¡°Still, it might be a while before I¡¯m able to properly face Tyler again. Because the way I¡¯m feeling now, which I expect might go on for quite a few days, I might die of embarrassment.¡±


    This time Alice managed to regain her voice and mumbled in half-agreement, ¡°I know what that feels like¡­ the first couple of days after you pulled me out of the closet from accidentally discovering my ¡®stash¡¯, I was honestly dying inside with embarrassment too.¡±


    ¡°Good thing you don¡¯t feel that way anymore.¡± Said Winona with a friendly pat on Alice¡¯s back, before borrowing some of her earlier words to say, ¡°Because it¡¯s in no way something to be guilty of, as if it¡¯s a crime to like girls.¡±


    This made Alice blush again and laugh coyly. This was also the point where they had to end their conversation as they approached Winona¡¯s classroom. Exchanging byes for now at the door, Alice watched Winona walk away and take her seat, then proceeded to make her way to her own class.


    On her way there, due to what she¡¯d been talking about with Winona just a second ago, her mind randomly flashed back to what she meant when she said Winona had ¡°pulled her out of the closet¡± after ¡°discovering her stash¡±.


    One day during the winter vacation before this semester, Winona had come over to Alice¡¯s place to hang out. After inviting Winona into her bedroom where she suggested they could play something on the computer, Alice had excused herself for a bit because she had to go to the bathroom. In the brief moment in which she had returned to her room, however, Alice wished with pure regret that she''d never left. Because when she opened the door, she was greeted with the sight of Winona kneeling down beside the bed, holding her phone in one hand and a paperback manga in the other ¨C the cover of which featured two half-dressed, well-endowed ladies intensely making out together.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Alice didn¡¯t want to know what had happened during her absence that had resulted in this, even as Winona tried to explain she¡¯d dropped her phone and had only been retrieving it, when in the process she got curious from just so happening to spot a stack of manga strangely hidden beneath the bed. All Alice did want at the time was to run far away off to someplace nobody could ever find her and bring her back to human society again. How amateurish could she have been, she had thought, hiding those shameful things in a place where they could be exposed so easily like this.


    Despite that, Alice had been unable to stop the truth from tumbling out of her mouth. Her brain seemed to have stalled from being clogged up by the extreme amount of humiliation she had felt in her, preventing it from coming up with any excuses, no matter how pathetic. Falling to her knees in sheer despair like her world had come to an end, Alice had said, ¡°Okay, you got me, there¡¯s no putting the cat back in the bag¡­ I¡¯m attracted to girls.¡±


    After this revelation that couldn¡¯t have gone over in a more embarrassing manner, Alice wouldn¡¯t have blamed Winona if she just straight-up left the house, let alone her bedroom, right then and there from being so weirded out by her friend. If anything, she thought she had no one to blame but herself for ever allowing this to happen.


    Which was why Alice felt her brain stall to impossibly further levels when she had seen Winona kneel before her gently, placed her hands on her shoulders almost in the same way a mother would to a crying child, and said soothingly, ¡°You poor thing, how long have you been keeping this a secret from everyone?¡±


    Alice had to give her brain a good several seconds to be able to start back up, before she could slowly look up at her friend and timidly ask, ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯m a¡­ a weirdo¡­?¡±


    In response, Winona had glanced back at the manga beside the bed and back at Alice before saying, ¡°If that¡¯s supposed to be ¡®weird¡¯¡­ then I don¡¯t know how to define ¡®normal¡¯.¡±


    Both Alice¡¯s mind and body had frozen again at these words, giving Winona time to add, ¡°And I don¡¯t care whether you like girls or guys¡­ this doesn¡¯t change that I wanna be here for my best friend until she¡¯s okay.¡±


    If Alice¡¯s emotions could be compared to a camel¡¯s back, those words had been the last straw that broke it. For ages she¡¯d been insecure about this side of herself more than words could say. She''d been afraid of what those closest to her ¨C namely family and friends ¨C would make of her if they knew. Afraid of being judged, or maybe even pushed away for it. Just simply thinking about the potential danger of her social life being turned upside down had been unbearable. Yet here she was, exposed before her best friend who not only didn¡¯t judge her, but was willing to embrace her for what she was.


    Needless to say, this breaking down of so many pent-up emotions had resulted in a ton of crying from Alice, as well as equally tons of comforting words and gestures from Winona. And by the end of it all, Alice couldn¡¯t have felt more touched, grateful, and free of her insecurity¡¯s burdens all at once. All thanks to Winona, whom Alice saw to this day as the best thing to ever happen to her.


    What was more, almost everything that had followed after that faithful day could be described by Alice as nothing short of the greatest relief in her life. Like the absolutely wonderful human being she was, slowly but surely Winona had helped Alice come out of the closet to more of her friends who, to Alice¡¯s pleasant and thankful surprise, had all been extremely kind and accepting of it, not to mention genuinely supportive.


    The same could be said for when Winona had given Alice the courage to finally come out to her parents as well ¨C at first they had said they were so sorry they made their own daughter feel like she couldn¡¯t trust them enough to confide such matters in them. But after that, they were glad that she eventually had, and promised her she could always count on them to listen to and help with any problem if she had more of them in future.


    Looking back on those past days, and also around her classroom where her other friends were seen sitting at their desks, Alice couldn¡¯t believe she had ever been afraid of her so-called ¡°insecurity¡± bringing her social life to a humiliating downfall. If anything, as far as she was concerned, it was turning out to be better than ever, now that the biggest weight on her chest that had been dragging it down was no more, leaving her a free girl at last.


    That is¡­ except for one additional thing. With the lifting of the previous weight on Alice¡¯s mind, another one had taken its place ¨C one that didn¡¯t feel as heavy as the one before, but still dragged her back down all the same.


    ***


    Later that day, after her classes ended and she parted ways with Winona, Alice came home where she didn¡¯t do much except mind her own business such as homework, until her parents arrived in time for dinner. During it, as typically expected, a few conversations took place over the table. The talk eventually reached the subject of how school was today for Alice. Of course, considering the subject, mentioning what happened with Winona and Tyler was inevitable as Alice responded to the question.


    ¡°Oh dear, how upsetting that must¡¯ve been for her.¡± Alice¡¯s mother, Mrs Gray, exclaimed pitifully.


    ¡°It definitely was.¡± Said Alice, ¡°Thankfully she seemed to do better after she talked it out with me over lunch break. I do hope it lasts, even though she did say she can¡¯t expect herself to be hung up on it forever.¡±


    Mr Gray raised his eyebrows at that. ¡°Did she?¡± He asked. ¡°That¡¯s surprising ¨C usually it takes several more days than that for most people to fully recover from a rejection.¡±


    ¡°Adam,¡± Mrs Gray shook her head a little in response to her husband¡¯s words, ¡°Surely Winona meant she just wasn¡¯t upset anymore for the time being, nobody fully gets over something like this almost immediately.¡±


    Alice added with a nod, ¡°She did say it might take her a while before she could properly talk with Tyler again.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Mr Gray replied, before Alice continued, ¡°But on the other hand, Winona also mentioned something about there being ''plenty of other fish in the sea'', so you¡¯re probably not too wrong either, dad.¡±


    Mrs Gray glanced at her daughter in surprise upon hearing that. ¡°I definitely can¡¯t say what she said there is wrong, I¡¯ll give you that.¡± She told Mr Gray, and turned back to Alice to say, ¡°Sounds like she is indeed taking this better than most kids her age.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Mr Gray nodded in agreement. ¡°Better to keep moving on with what¡¯s right in front of you rather than uselessly dwelling on things out of your control. Your friend made the wise decision.¡±


    Even though Mr Gray hadn¡¯t said that as a joke, this still got a slight laugh out of his wife due to how abruptly deep a simple dinnertime conversation had become, ¡°Where¡¯d that philosophical insight of yours suddenly come from?¡± She asked.


    Laughing along, Mr Gray replied, jokingly this time, ¡°It¡¯s just personal experience, think about it; would I have met you and had our precious girl,¡± he paused for a split second to glance at Alice as he said this, ¡°if I kept chasing around my first crush long after she rejected me? People would¡¯ve called me obsessed if I did.¡±


    Mrs Gray laughed some more in agreement, gently chortling, ¡°Better to end up with the family you have right now instead of a restraining order, when you put it like that.¡±


    Alice laughed with them to keep up with the mood. Deep down, however, she honestly felt like doing anything but laugh at the subject being discussed ¨C a subject that continued to linger in her mind all throughout dinner and even after she¡¯d gone up to her room when they were all done eating. In fact, it was all she could think of as she lay in her bed unable to bring herself to be preoccupied with anything else (her homework had been finished before dinner).


    All of this had to do with the aforementioned second weight that had been dragging Alice¡¯ mind down. That being, how her feelings towards Winona had gradually developed into something far beyond just friendship.


    All this time she¡¯d been Winona¡¯s closest best friend ¨C and vice versa, especially ¨C had made Alice realize at one point that every one of Winona¡¯s good qualities she liked as a friend, she had begun to like as someone who liked her, in the same way Winona had liked Tyler. As if that wasn¡¯t enough things happening with Alice¡¯s emotions already, these feelings had only intensified after Winona had open-mindedly accepted her ¡°hidden¡± side, as well as helped her come out to everyone, all while never wanting anything in return for such kindness (as proven from her attitude earlier today when Alice had offered to hear out her problem). So how could Alice possibly not fall for someone like Winona?


    With all that said though, these emotions had also formed the new weight in Alice¡¯s mind when she realized something else about them; that no matter how passionate and genuine they may be, they had no chance of being reciprocated either. There was no changing the clear fact that Winona was a straight girl regardless of whether or not she had eyes for someone else. If Alice was to be honest with herself, when Winona had first come to her for the purpose of confiding in her about how she felt about Tyler, and additionally the reason Alice was the only one she¡¯d done it to, Alice had actually felt a great sense of heartache. One that had been hidden behind the gratitude of hearing how much of a good and trustworthy best friend Winona thought of her ¨C a sense of heartache coming from Winona¡¯s indirect reminder that Alice¡¯s feelings towards her had always been a lost cause since the start. That she¡¯d never like Alice the same way Alice liked her.


    To add insult to injury, the very act of Winona confiding in Alice something on her mind she¡¯d been unable to confide in to anyone else was secretly gut-wrenching to Alice in and of itself, as it was another reminder of another ugly truth ¨C Alice felt like she couldn¡¯t work this out in the same way she¡¯d come out of the closet, or in the way Winona had gotten over her rejection from Tyler. In other words, this came across to her as one issue she wouldn¡¯t be able to solve by talking about it with those around her, not even friends or family.


    First off, Alice feared how Winona would view her if she ever found out her closest buddy of all people ¨C no less whom she obviously had absolutely zero romantic interest in whatsoever ¨C was this much heads-over-heels for her. Sure, considering Winona had never judged Alice for anything even after accidentally making her come out of the closet, this may seem like an irrational fear. But as most, if not all, irrational fears typically did, it came across as perfectly reasonable and hauntingly real to the person it belonged to; in this case, Alice. And as far as Alice was concerned, this was a vastly different matter from just admitting her ¡°preferences¡± to Winona. Therefore part of her fear stemmed from her uncertainty as to whether Winona would have the same reaction to this as she did back then¡­ or something else.


    What if it made Winona uncomfortable to know her friend felt this particular way towards her? Hell, if what happened between Winona and Tyler today had done anything, it was cementing that fear deeper in Alice ¨C she¡¯d already heard from Winona herself just how awkward things would most likely get around Tyler, and neither of them needed to hear it from Tyler for themselves to know he¡¯d feel the same way.


    What exactly scared Alice about this was the thought of this same awkwardness happening between her and Winona if the latter ever knew about her feelings. This led to another anxiety-filled ¡°what-if¡±; the possibility of them drifting apart if Winona really did feel uneasy around Alice as a result of that. And needless to say, Alice would be damned before she could see herself falling out with a one-of-a-kind person like Winona.


    Then there was a different kind of fear fueled by insecure uncertainties, which was what held Alice back from telling people other than Winona about her problem so as to find a solution, or at least get the pressure off her mind. In fact, this wasn¡¯t too far off from the fear that had kept her from coming out to her family and friends in the first place ¨C the fear of being judged.


    When she¡¯d heard Winona say there was ¡°plenty of other fish in the sea¡± and she ought to let Tyler go even though it hurt, as well as thought back to the words her parents exchanged over dinner just now, Alice was more afraid than ever of what other people might make of her feelings. Because truth be told, for Alice, there was no other fish in the sea. If anyone was to ever tell her so, the first thing that came to her mind was how out of all the so-called ¡°other fish¡± out there, none of them were Winona ¨C again, she was one-of-a-kind, and in Alice¡¯s view, the only one for her ever.


    That was precisely what fueled Alice¡¯s fear. She was scared of those around her thinking of her as obsessive for being unable to let go of what was very clearly doing nothing but mentally drag her down. And if they did think of her as such, Alice likewise feared the prospect of whether they¡¯d be able to view her the same way ever again. Yet at the same time, how could she just let go of someone she had this much complicated and genuine feelings for as easily as said someone had done so with her own crush?


    This train of thought once more brought up what her father had said about Winona being wise by choosing to let go. With that plaguing her mind, Alice muttered to herself while curling up on the bed like a hurt animal, ¡°If only it was that easy for me too¡­ or to just tell any of you lot how hard it is¡­¡±

 Lakefield High Lamentations (2/3)

    The next day at school, Alice made her way to the lake on her own during lunch break. Winona was preoccupied with a last bit of homework she¡¯d forgotten to finish the other night. She had told Alice so while they tended to lunch earlier, ¡°It¡¯s only just a little, but I¡¯ll still have to make the most out of lunch break to finish it before the class it¡¯s due for.¡±


    In response to that, Alice had told her, ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯ll just, well, be down at the lake as per usual to kill some time until it¡¯s time for classes.¡± To which Winona simply nodded to show she got that.


    Alice briefly glanced back at the school building where Winona most likely was by now, sitting in her classroom and rapidly tending to unfinished business. She sighed to herself and turned her glance back to the lakeside path she was walking along. Strangely enough, Alice felt that for once it was probably for the best if she didn¡¯t hang out with Winona at the moment ¨C her state of mind hadn¡¯t quite made its way out of the mess she had put it in yesterday evening after dinner. So Alice thought she wouldn¡¯t be doing it any favors by spending time with one of the reminders as to why her mind had been in such a mess in the first place.


    ¡°That almost makes it sound like I¡¯m blaming Winona for all the stuff I¡¯m going through¡­¡± Alice thought and shook her head, all while the more she walked along the lakeside, the further she got away from the school building and the less students there were around her. ¡°As if she¡¯s at fault for any of this¡­ if anything, I¡¯m the real cause of my own problems¡­ problems I¡¯m just too weak to face¡­¡±


    Feeling a mildly stinging sensation within her like the weight in her mind had physically materialized to pull at her heart, Alice uttered a deeper sigh than before. She then turned her gaze at the beautiful-as-always lakeview stretched out beside her. That was where her gaze continued to be fixated as she half-consciously made her way into a part of the lakeside completely absent of other people. Alice hoped the natural view and surroundings she had only to herself right now would be able to put her mind at ease until lunch break ended. It also helped that normally neither students nor teachers really ever ventured this far along the lakeside, because most of them couldn¡¯t be bothered to do so what with school already being time-consuming enough as it was.


    A sudden cold and wet sensation on her feet, followed by a small splash, brought Alice back to earth. She looked down and realized that in her absent-mindedness she had walked way too close to the water and stepped into it before she could stop herself.


    ¡°Oh, great.¡± Alice grumbled. The only thing on the schoolgrounds keeping any of the students from wading into the lake even on the hottest summer days was a strict school rule prohibiting the act, unless they wanted detention. Thus, the lake didn¡¯t really have anything such as rails built all around it either, which only helped the place maintain its natural beauty. Unfortunately, it had also been this lack of rails that had caused this wet accident just now.


    Knowing what any of the teachers would most likely make of her if she was seen walking around the school with either wet or bare feet inside her shoes, Alice quickly tried to make her way back onto dry land. In this hurried process, however, Alice¡¯s foot hit something like a rock and, to her horror, she felt her whole body trip over and fall straight into the water.


    There was a splash, and Alice knew at that moment there would be no escaping detention for her after this.


    That was when Alice realized something extremely weird. She could¡¯ve sworn she¡¯d tripped and fallen into the water, yet not an inch of her body ¨C not even her clothes or her already submerged feet ¨C felt the least bit drenched.


    She quickly lifted her head and, to her utter astonishment, saw she was lying not in the water, but on the shore of the lake that she¡¯d been walking along a second ago before she had tripped.


    Alice stumbled up to her feet and turned around to look at the spot on the water where she thought she had fallen into. Could it be she just imagined hearing a splash when she¡¯d actually fallen onto the shore? But then how did that explain her feet suddenly being as dry as the rest of her body like they had never been in the water at all?


    ¡°Oh, hey Alice ¨C I had a hunch you¡¯d be here at the lake, so I had to be here too.¡±


    As if she wasn¡¯t perplexed enough already, Alice was driven further into confusion when she saw Winona walking along the lakeside path towards her, waving and smiling. But didn¡¯t Winona say she had to use the rest of lunch break for finishing her homework? When would she have the time to walk not just to the lake, but all the way over to this exact part of the lakeside? Without even knowing Alice would be here, no less?


    Naturally, Alice couldn¡¯t think of how to react to such a befuddling thing happening so suddenly. All she could think of being able to do was address one baffling thing at a time just so she could comprehend the situation as naturally as possible. She started by asking Winona, ¡°What are you doing out here? I thought you said you had unfinished homework to tend to.¡±


    ¡°I did.¡± Winona replied. ¡°Now I don¡¯t anymore, obviously meaning I¡¯ve finished it.¡±


    That still didn¡¯t answer many of the logical holes in explaining how Winona had made it here, which Alice also addressed by asking, ¡°But how did you know where exactly at the lake I¡¯d be just by a simple hunch?¡±


    Winona shrugged. ¡°You said you¡¯d be at the lake while I was busy with homework, but when I got there later I couldn¡¯t find you at the part of the lakeside everyone typically spends time at. So I figured you were probably walking along the lake to some other area, and¡­¡± she paused to gesture at both Alice and the lake, ¡°¡­here we are.¡±


    Alice scratched her head as she glanced at the lake as well. It was then she noticed how far away the specific part of the lakeshore usually occupied by people seemed to be from here. ¡°Still, this is kind of too much of a long distance to walk just to see me¡­¡±


    At this, Winona wore a signature friendly smile that Alice had seen on her way too many times before to ignore and said, ¡°Hey, it¡¯s not like I ran a marathon to get here ¨C that kind of walk is nothing if it means I get to see you.¡±


    This time Alice had to act as naturally as possible in order to hide a hot blush blossoming from her cheeks at these words. ¡°Do y-you really- uh- mean that?¡± She stuttered. ¡°You r-really wanted t-to see me after f-finishing your homework?¡±


    To Alice¡¯s astonishment for the third time in the span of the past minute or so, she saw Winona blushing just as much as herself. The girl then fidgeted a little on the spot in the same way Alice saw her do when talking about Tyler pre-rejection. She even did a coy sideways glance as she said, ¡°Yeah, about that¡­ I have something really important to tell you that I feel like a phone call or text wouldn¡¯t have done justice, so I had to see you in person for it¡­¡±


    As a means to rid herself of the awkwardness seemingly taking over both of them, Alice inhaled a deep breath and said, ¡°Oh well, it¡¯s like I keep saying, it¡¯s only right for friends to look out for each other when in need¡­ of course I¡¯ll hear out whatever you have on your mind, like I always have.¡±


    The coy smile on Winona¡¯s face immediately turned into one of gratitude, and she said, ¡°Thanks Alice, you¡¯re the best¡­¡± then she took a deep breath herself and slowly began inching closer to Alice while saying timidly, ¡°You remember yesterday, when you told me Tyler has no idea what he¡¯s missing out on when he turned my confession down?¡±


    Alice nodded, and Winona continued, ¡°That got me thinking¡­ maybe Tyler wasn¡¯t the only one who had no idea what they were missing out on¡­ it wasn¡¯t after Tyler turned me down that I realized I was also missing out on something ¨C someone ¨C special¡­ someone who¡¯s always been with me this whole time, and I¡¯ve been too blinded by my feelings towards Tyler to see it¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Alice gasped in surprise. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you developed a crush on someone else already!¡± Even for someone who seemed to have gotten over the distress of rejection pretty quickly, the idea of Winona having found a different person to swoon over in no less than a day sounded nothing short of outlandish to Alice.


    Winona shook her head, coupled with more sideways glances at Alice, ¡°Not so much developing a crush on someone else¡­ as finally accepting these feelings I had for some time but ignored from being too distracted by Tyler¡­¡±


    Having had enough of the vague implications, Alice was about to ask who that someone was, when Winona beat her to it with another deep sigh, ¡°Okay, enough beating around the bush¡­ I¡¯m talking about you, Alice. I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to hide it any longer, not after that damn rejection¡­ I like- I mean, I like you¡­¡±


    Whatever Alice had been expecting, it wasn¡¯t this. No method of communication on earth could be enough to describe the typhoon of bewilderment that hit her mind like a wrecking ball the moment she heard Winona¡¯s lips utter those words.


    No¡­ there was no way she had heard that right. After being so heads-over-heels for Tyler this whole time, how was it remotely possible for Winona to suddenly have such an abrupt change of heart, regardless of whether those feelings had indeed been just hidden away like she¡¯d said? Had all of Alice¡¯s fears regarding how Winona would see her if she knew the truth been a lie she had concocted for herself out of weakness? Was Winona possibly bi rather than straight? What was going on?


    In this immense state of quandary, Alice couldn¡¯t stop her legs from inadvertently stumbling in a certain direction, as such emotions typically did to people. In Alice¡¯s case, she had begun to stumble backwards, completely forgetting what was right behind her.


    ¡°Alice!¡± Before Winona could even reach out a hand to catch her, Alice went tumbling backwards into the lakewater again.


    Another splash.


    Alice found herself falling back until her rear end made contact with the lakeshore, on dry land. Her body and clothes were just as dry as the ground she was sitting on. Most of all, she was alone. There was absolutely no sign that Winona ¨C let alone anyone else ¨C had ever been here with her.


    Now Alice was really questioning her reality. Considering her current circumstances, what she just experienced couldn¡¯t have been anything more than either a dream or a hallucination. But even those explanations raised more questions than they answered. Where and how could she have fallen asleep here when the last thing she recalled before those confusing series of events was tripping into the water? And there was nothing out of the ordinary she had done to see or hear things that weren¡¯t really there either. Most of all, the aforementioned confusing events had all seemed way too real to be only a figment of her imagination.


    Suddenly at that moment, Alice felt she didn¡¯t want to be out here only on her own. Half-disoriented and half-scared, she hurried up to her feet and dashed along the lakeside path, all the way back to the school.


    When she did get there though, for some reason Alice didn¡¯t run to the nurse¡¯s office to see if she was sick or anything. The place she did go for, past all the other students who glanced at her like she was being chased, was Winona¡¯s classroom.


    Sure enough, as Alice stood panting heavily in the classroom¡¯s back doorway, she immediately made out the sight of her best friend sitting at her desk. Her head was still bent over her textbook as she intently continued tending to whatever homework she¡¯d left unfinished. Almost ¨C no, exactly ¨C like she''d never left her seat for even a second.


    Of course, what with her standing right outside the classroom and looking as though she¡¯d just gotten off a treadmill, Alice didn¡¯t go unnoticed by a few students minding their own business nearby. They saw her and called to Winona, ¡°Winona, your friend¡¯s here to see you!¡±


    Instantly, Winona turned around in her seat, also saw Alice, and stood up to make her way towards her, asking, ¡°Alice? What is it? And why do you look so worn out?¡±


    For a very brief moment that seemed more like several minutes to her, Alice thought to herself about what to say. Was there any way she could tell the truth without making Winona or everyone else within earshot think she¡¯d gone crazy? Was it remotely possible to prove Winona otherwise if she did spill the beans? And even if either of those options were possible ¨C and that was a big bloody IF ¨C how would Winona react to the truth? How many people did Alice know of who¡¯d be able to properly comprehend even a quarter of the notion of some alternate version of themselves secretly existing within a lake? Assuming, of course, that was indeed what Alice had stumbled across?


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Perhaps, just this once, honesty wasn¡¯t exactly the best policy.


    Pretending to catch her breath during the few seconds she thought what the most reasonable thing to say right now would be, Alice eventually replied, ¡°It¡¯s nothing, sorry to interrupt you while you¡¯re busy¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re looking like you were actively searching for me after running like a mile.¡± Winona insisted. ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem like nothing, that¡¯s definitely something.¡±


    Alice fell silent again spare for the exhausted panting. There was no avoiding giving an answer to that, considering her state. So after another few seconds of pretending to catch her breath until it was back to normal, Alice said, ¡°I kinda¡­ dozed off while sitting down at the lakeside and¡­ had this hella weird dream that felt way too real. I don¡¯t remember much of it right now, all I do remember was that you were in it, so¡­ yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Winona nodded understandably and gave Alice a pat on the shoulder, saying, ¡°Whatever it was that you dreamt of, or however real it felt, don¡¯t think much of it, if at all ¨C that¡¯s all it was, just a dream.¡±


    On the other hand, due to how silly it must¡¯ve come across to them, the sound of Alice dreaming about Winona had apparently somewhat mildly amused the latter¡¯s classmates, because they also responded to the conversation by jokingly going, ¡°Oooooh~¡± in the same way kids teased their peers acting like a couple. At this, Winona laughed the reactions off with a, ¡°Oh shut up!¡± before everyone cracked up over it.


    Going along with the atmosphere, Alice also laughed, however somewhere at the back of her mind, this brief interaction spawned an uncomfortable feeling she couldn¡¯t deny; a feeling she couldn¡¯t help but allow it to resurface when Winona offered to walk home with her after school.


    During their walk across the school grounds to the gates, Winona spoke about how relieved she was that the homework she''d hastily finished at lunch break today had somehow not come across like something done right at the last minute to the teacher who had collected it. However, Alice was barely listening, having gotten lost in thought yet again.


    Winona¡¯s mention of her homework and lunch break had reminded Alice of the moment the two of them had shared with some of the former¡¯s classmates ¨C more specifically, the part where the other kids had teased her and Winona as an innocent joke, and the way Winona had laughed it off.


    Maybe the weight on Alice¡¯s mind had just made her unnecessarily sensitive towards things like this. But even so, what had simply been nothing short of a friendly exchange of laughs had also come across to her as another unfortunate reminder that her feelings towards Winona were never meant to be. When Winona had said, ¡°Oh shut up!¡± she¡¯d of course only meant it as harmless banter towards her classmates¡¯ teasing, Alice knew that. But the part of Alice¡¯s mind being dragged down by that damn weight had also interpreted the sentence in a different way. That being, Winona indirectly saying there was absolutely no chance of her and Alice becoming more than close friends, considering the nature of the way her classmates had joke-teased her in the first place.


    That particular train of thought led to another one, this time regarding what had happened at the lake. Alice still had no idea how to make sense of the incident or what to do about it. All she did know was that for a reason she couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on, she felt herself wanting to go back to it and see if she could experience the same thing again. A morbid curiosity, if you will. Like the feeling of opening a book with such a bizarre premise and writing style that the reader couldn¡¯t help but develop a desire to see where the story could possibly go, regardless of the quality.


    ¡°Alice? Hey!¡±


    Both of Alice¡¯s trains of thought immediately halted at the sound of Winona calling out to her. At the same time, Alice noticed they¡¯d made it to the school gates already, with many other students passing through on their way home as well.


    Looking at her friend with slight concern, Winona asked, ¡°You were kinda glassy-eyed until just now, is there something wrong?¡±


    Alice¡¯s mind raced for a moment. She couldn¡¯t dare tell Winona she hadn¡¯t been paying attention to any of her words, or the reason for it. As much as she hated to keep lying like this to her friend, the situation wasn¡¯t exactly one where she got to choose either, so another excuse had to be in order. And the lake incident constantly bobbing to the surface of her mind wasn¡¯t helping at all too. For that same reason she couldn¡¯t put her finger on, Alice just had to go back to it.


    ¡°Dunno, I just have this nagging feeling that I might¡¯ve forgotten something¡­¡± Alice muttered. She stopped in her tracks to unsling her backpack from her shoulders, before unzipping it open just narrowly enough for her to pretend to see the inside of it while Winona couldn¡¯t. She then muttered something about having indeed forgotten something back at the classroom, excused herself from Winona¡¯s presence, and went to walk in the opposite direction with a, ¡°I just hope the classroom door¡¯s still unlocked when I get there¡­¡± leaving Winona to awkwardly wave after her before going off on her own.


    Once out of most other people¡¯s eyesight, Alice raced to the exact same part of the lakeshore from earlier that day. Aside from the water now looking a bluish-orange from its surface reflecting the late afternoon sky, things seemed to be the same as during lunch break.


    Hoping the lake was indeed the same as before ¨C again, driven by that feeling she couldn¡¯t identify right now ¨C Alice put her backpack down on the ground, took a deep breath to brace herself, and took a wishful leap of faith into the water.


    Splash!


    Alice landed in the exact same spot on the ground she¡¯d leapt forwards from. Even her backpack appeared to be in an 100% identical location and shape it was in when she¡¯d put it down. The only difference immediately apparent was that the lake was now behind Alice instead of in front of her.


    Then that moment was over almost as quickly as Alice had first noticed it. When Alice extended a foot before her to look at more of her surroundings and find anything else different, she heard someone approaching her in the distance. That was when Alice was fully sure the same thing she¡¯d experienced at lunch break was happening again.


    Sure enough, Alice saw Winona ¨C or rather, the other Winona ¨C walking up to her along the lakeside path, precisely how she¡¯d done so the first time Alice had fallen into this mirrored world beneath the lake (there was no other term Alice could think of describing it as accurately as possible).


    Trying not to let the awkward interaction from their first encounter get in the way of striking a proper conversation this time, Alice cleared her throat, picked up her backpack (despite not being sure if she could even call it hers while she was here), and waved at the other Winona with a, ¡°Hi.¡±


    The other Winona returned the gesture. Everything from the mannerisms to the facial expressions the Winona whom Alice knew would¡¯ve shown was mirrored in her. Even as she spoke, ¡°I saw you coming back here all the way from the school gates, so I had to be here too.¡± Alice felt like she was actually listening to her friend.


    Before Alice could open her mouth again ¨C whether to ask the other Winona if she¡¯d actually seen her come all the way over here or even what this whole thing with the lake was about ¨C the other Winona beat her to it. This time she spoke in a coy apologetic tone, ¡°Sorry about what happened the last time we were here, I didn¡¯t mean to startle you that badly¡­¡± and she fidgeted awkwardly on the spot, again in the same manner Alice had typically seen from Winona. ¡°¡­but I just had to convey to you what was on my mind and constantly bugging me ever since Tyler¡¯s rejection helped open my eyes to it. I just couldn¡¯t keep it to myself anymore because of how giddy it¡¯s been making me, yet at the same time I knew I could count on confiding it in the one person who has my utmost trust aside from family. Once again, if it was too much for you to take in, I apologize¡­ and it¡¯s also perfectly fine if you don¡¯t feel the same way towards me, I¡¯ll more than respect your decision. Just as long as we can keep being friends, I¡¯ll be perfectly fine with that too¡­¡±


    Every question that had been nagging at Alice¡¯s mind went out the window the moment she heard the other Winona say this. At the same time, she thought she finally knew what that intangible reason as to why she kept wanting to revisit the lake had been about.


    Alice approached the other Winona ¨C now looking just as nervous as Winona had on the morning of the day she confessed to Tyler ¨C and gently took her hand. She reassuringly said, ¡°Say no more, that¡¯s all I wanted to hear.¡± And followed it with a shy but nice smile at her.


    Knowing what this meant, the other Winona¡¯s face broke into a smile of both happiness and relief, before pulling Alice into a hug. Almost immediately afterwards though, she cautiously asked, ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t startle you again, did I?¡±


    In spite of feeling just as much of the same emotions as the other Winona, Alice managed a small laugh and replied, ¡°Not at all.¡±


    Yes, Alice was aware the person she was exchanging hugs with wasn¡¯t the same Winona she¡¯d known for years, and that it was far from normal for anyone, let alone anything like some sort of mirrored world, to exist like this under the surface of a lake. But those weren¡¯t what mattered to her at the moment. What did matter was that the trapped part of her mind ¨C the one always chained to the weight of knowing her feelings towards Winona would never be reciprocated ¨C was finally released and accepted, even if it wasn¡¯t in the way she¡¯d hoped. Like the most unexpected but nonetheless somewhat welcome miracle had taken a once broken dream of hers and put it back together for it to be achieved at long last.


    For the first time in ages, she felt free as a bird from what had been dragging her down.


    For that moment, that was all she needed.


    After hugging each other for lord knew how long, the two girls half-reluctantly broke out of their arms¡¯ grasps. The other Winona then checked the time on her watch and exclaimed, ¡°Oh damn, is that the time already?! Sorry to suddenly interrupt our ¡®nice moment¡¯ together, but it looks like I really gotta get going now¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Alice replied, ¡°It¡¯s not like we can¡¯t meet again another time.¡± She paused for a second there, remembering the nature of the situation, and added, ¡°We¡­ CAN meet again, right?¡±


    The other Winona also paused mid-step in her walk back along the lakeside path. She turned her head to glance at Alice over her shoulder, and responded with Winona¡¯s signature friendly grin that Alice would recognize anywhere, ¡°Of course. Don¡¯t ever think I won¡¯t be here for you with anything, just like the time I helped you come out to everyone else. Especially now that we¡¯re¡­ you know...¡±


    She couldn¡¯t finish that sentence out of shyness, but she didn¡¯t need to ¨C Alice perfectly understood.


    After exchanging byes for now with the other Winona and watching her walk out of sight, Alice jumped into the water once more to emerge onto the lakeshore of her own world. Surprisingly, as she noticed her actual backpack lying on the ground near her feet right where she¡¯d left it, Alice no longer felt the backpack she¡¯d slung onto her shoulders in the lake¡¯s mirrored world.


    She felt around her backside and both her shoulders, then thought to herself with a shrug, ¡°Guess it makes sense, that technically wasn¡¯t my backpack¡­¡±


    She then picked up her real backpack to sling it back onto her shoulders and proceeded to walk all the way across the school grounds again. By that time Winona had already headed home. Alice did so as well, but with a very subtle skip in her steps, all while her mind kept recounting the events that went down in the lake¡¯s mirrored world like a video stuck on auto-replay.


    During that moment, Alice genuinely looked forward to the days she had ahead of her for once.


    ***


    ¡°You¡¯re looking rather bright this morning, Alice.¡± Winona pointed out on her way to school with her friend the following day. ¡°I mean, not that you don¡¯t usually look bright, it¡¯s just that you kinda look brighter than you typically do.¡±


    Alice glanced at Winona out of the corner of her eye for a second. ¡°Do I?¡± She asked, then shrugged with an added, ¡°I guess I just have a good feeling about today for some reason even I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Again, this was a lie Alice didn¡¯t feel all that good about telling Winona, but had no other choice ¨C in truth, she was thinking about revisiting the lake during lunch break and after school much like yesterday. Even with the actual Winona walking and talking right beside her, after the interactions between her and the other Winona, from the heartfelt talks to the encouraging promise to meet again ¨C coupled with the newfound unshackled and relieved state of mind she¡¯d gotten from the love confession ¨C Alice couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the mirrored world version of her now-girlfriend. If she could even call the other Winona as such.


    ¡°I see.¡± Winona mumbled, also shrugging. ¡°I hope that feeling lasts, it¡¯s good to see you like this.¡±


    As it turned out, the feeling did indeed last. Finishing her lunch quicker than usual once noon arrived, this time Alice was the one who told Winona she had unfinished business to tend to during the rest of lunch break ¨C another excuse that Winona bought with no doubt.


    ¡°See you later then.¡± Winona waved at Alice from the table she was still sitting and eating at. Alice waved back, then once Winona was out of her sight, she made her way to the familiar unoccupied spot of the lakeshore and jumped right in.


    ¡°Well, what did I tell you? Here I am for you, just like I promised yesterday.¡± The other Winona happily greeted Alice back moments after she¡¯d emerged from the lake into the mirrored world. ¡°As I always will.¡± She added shortly after with a shy blush.


    Alice beamed and replied, ¡°Same here¡­ Winona.¡±


    She¡¯d almost hesitated on addressing the other Winona as if she was the actual one. However the more Alice met and spoke with her, the more comfortable she felt in doing so ¨C comfortable in the same way she felt around the actual Winona.


    Chuckling, Winona walked over to an old wooden bench situated near them and sat down on it, to which Alice asked, ¡°Wait, you wanna hang out with me here instead of over where everyone else is at?¡± She glanced across the water at the particular lakeshore, crowded as always with many other students resting or playing.


    Winona glanced down at her feet and fidgeted again from where she sat, this time with a hint of slight unease as well, ¡°Oh well, um, about that, Alice¡­ I¡¯m not too sure right now¡­¡±


    ¡°Not too sure about what?¡± Alice asked, sitting down next to Winona, who replied, ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m quite ready yet to¡­ how do I say it¡­ make it publicly apparent that the two of us are now, um¡­¡±


    Again, Winona didn¡¯t need to finish her sentence for Alice to see where she was going. What also helped was the fact that Alice more than knew what Winona was feeling through similar personal experience. Blushing just as much as Winona, Alice very gently held her ¡®girlfriend¡¯ by the hand and spoke in her best comfortingly reassuring voice, ¡°Winona, you remember what you told me long before you helped me come out of the closet to our friends and my parents?¡±


    Winona¡¯s eyes momentarily widened and locked gazes with Alice¡¯s upon feeling her hand being held in such a manner. She then immediately composed herself and replied, ¡°That you can be ready to come out at any pace you feel comfortable with, just as long as you don¡¯t wait until it¡¯s too late?¡±

 Lakefield High Lamentations (3/3)

    Alice nodded. ¡°And big thanks to your help and support, I was able to find my right pace in coming out to everyone.¡± She said. By now Alice was so at ease with this Winona, it slipped her mind that this wasn¡¯t the same Winona who¡¯d done those things for her. But between the sheer affection Alice was feeling for Winona, and this Winona very clearly having memories of the past events the two had shared together as if she¡¯d actually been there, it was frankly way too easy for Alice to forget that aforementioned truth.


    However, even as Alice realized this truth for herself inside her head, she didn¡¯t let it show. She knew better than to tactlessly say something as off-topic as that while consoling a person in need (whether or not it was occurring in some kind of magic fantasy land under a lake). And on top of that, considering Alice¡¯s aforementioned emotions towards Winona ¨C which only kept growing stronger with every word they exchanged together ¨C she dared not bring herself to do anything of the sort. Instead, she continued to provide Winona with the kind supportive words she needed, ¡°Likewise I want to do the same for you, by helping you find your own pace in coming out to everyone about ourselves¡­¡± and followed it with an equally kind and supportive pat on the hand she was holding, ¡°¡­whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Winona turned her head to stare back down at the ground with her still widened eyes. For half an uneasy second Alice thought perhaps those words might not have been the right words for Winona. But then the latter¡¯s face brightened up in the smallest yet most wholesome smile ever before she said, ¡°What would I do without such a wonderful person as you¡­¡±


    Greatly flattered, Alice both playfully and gratefully returned those words right back at Winona, ¡°What would I do without such a wonderful person as you?¡±


    That exchange made them crack up with wholesome laughter together. They then followed it up with conversations about what they each looked forward to with their newly developed relationship from here on out like the typical couple of youngsters they were, until only ten minutes of lunch break remained.


    Standing up from the bench so as to return in time to where each of them respectively belonged, Alice and Winona promised to meet again after school, then parted ways.


    Once Alice was back in her own world, for the rest of the day at school she was visited by Winona ¨C the one of this world, to avoid getting mixed up ¨C during every recess. For close friends who were in separate classes, this of course wasn¡¯t anything out of the ordinary. What did seem out of the ordinary though, was Winona noticing Alice getting glassy-eyed again in the middle of their talk, like when they were on their way home after school the other day.


    Apparently Winona had bumped into Tyler in the hallways on her way to see Alice and, what with things still being rather awkward between them, she¡¯d just rushed past him with an equally rushed ¡°Sorry about that.¡± Even though the bump had resulted in Tyler dropping the textbooks he¡¯d been carrying in his hands. Because of that, once Winona had reached Alice¡¯s classroom and met with her, she had described the incident and was about to ask for advice on how to get over this awkwardness, not wanting it to get in the way of properly interacting with Tyler as if there was a brick wall between them. That was when she saw what seemed like a look of absent-mindedness on Alice¡¯s face, ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not like I can keep avoiding him whenever I¡¯m at school for however long it¡¯ll take for time to help us get over it, especially when he¡¯s in the class right next to- Alice? Alice?¡±


    Again, the calling of her name snapped Alice out of the thoughts she¡¯d just been lost in. She looked back at Winona properly and mumbled, ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You were looking distracted again like yesterday.¡± Winona pointed out. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Is there anything bugging you?¡±


    Alice blinked, then shook her head. To be frank, there was indeed something bugging her, which was how again (this time with insult added to the injury, because of the conversation¡¯s topic), Winona had inadvertently become a reminder of the ugly, unavoidable truth that only the lake¡¯s mirrored world ¨C as well as its version of Winona ¨C provided some form of escape from, even if for just brief periods of time. That alone was a whole different kind of ugly truth, one that Alice didn¡¯t want Winona to know about unless she wanted to hurt her.


    Silently berating herself for having such thoughts during now of all times, Alice reluctantly lied once more, ¡°Not so much anything bugging me as it is, um¡­ just me having a lot on my mind because of the stuff during my classes today being¡­¡± she paused for a bit to think of something convincing to say, ¡°¡­kinda overwhelming.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Winona asked, that familiar look of mild concern visible on her face yet again. ¡°Man, I¡¯ve never seen you this overwhelmed even during exam periods, so it must be pretty bad for you to say something like that when we haven¡¯t got exams until like a couple of months, huh?¡±


    Alice nodded to that as a means to keep up the fa?ade, to which Winona asked, ¡°If it¡¯s too much for you to handle on your own, want me to lend a hand with at least some of it?¡±


    This was another thing that wasn¡¯t anything out of the ordinary for Alice and Winona. As they entered high school and saw how hard the things they learned in classes were compared to middle school, they¡¯d sometimes helped each other with their studies, especially when the exams came around. Whether it was due to them being long-time close friends, studying the more difficult class materials somehow became much more doable when they had each other. That was how they got through their first high school year with passing grades. Therefore, Winona had figured they could do the same this year if they were to run into tricky class materials again.


    So imagine Winona¡¯s surprise when Alice¡¯s response to her proposal was, ¡°That¡¯s kind of you, but I¡¯ll be okay. I¡¯m sure I can manage this stuff on my own.¡±


    The look of mild concern on Winona¡¯s face turned to one of confusion upon hearing this, and she asked, ¡°No help? Are you sure you¡¯ll be able to do it?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me.¡± Alice replied almost flatly. ¡°Really, you don¡¯t have to.¡±


    Taken aback once again, this time at Alice¡¯s tone, Winona nodded slowly and muttered, ¡°Alright¡­ but in case you do need me, you know what to do.¡±


    At that moment, the bell signaling the end of recess rang, prompting both Alice and Winona to return to their respective classrooms. However, even as she sat back down at her desk and took out her textbooks for the next class, Winona''s mind raced. She couldn¡¯t help but keep thinking about how Alice¡¯s sudden rejection of something they¡¯ve casually done as friends for a whole year at high school felt somewhat out of character for her. What could be on her mind for her to say the things she said?


    Winona would¡¯ve thought about the matter a bit longer, but then the teacher came in to start the class and cut that train of thought short. So she just dismissed it for now by assuming Alice might have just wanted to try studying independently for some reason.


    However, that previously cut off train of thought came back in a different form later that day when school was over and Winona headed off to Alice¡¯s classroom again to ask her to walk home with her like always.


    It was when Winona first arrived at the classroom and searched amongst the few students still left in it for any sign of her friend that she noticed something a bit off, because she couldn¡¯t find her. Winona then tried to see if Alice¡¯s backpack was in here as proof of her presence, before she was interrupted by one student who recognized her while leaving the classroom, ¡°If you¡¯re looking for Alice, she¡¯s not here.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Winona asked in confusion, and the student spoke again, ¡°I think I saw her heading off on her own some time ago, so I figured she was going to your classroom to meet with you. You didn¡¯t see her on your way here?¡±


    Winona shook her head no with more confusion. All this time she and Alice had been at school, walking home together had become just as much of a casual activity between them as helping each other study difficult class materials. And on the few occasions they couldn¡¯t walk home together, they¡¯d always let each other know as to why, either by telling in advance or through a text. So for Alice to just leave right out of the blue not just the classroom but school as well (assuming she had indeed gone straight home) without letting Winona know in the slightest, what gives?


    ***


    ¡°Hey mom, this might sound kinda strange, but can I ask you something?¡± Winona asked her mother on Sunday evening after being called to the kitchen for dinner.


    It had been almost a week by now since Winona had been turned down by Tyler. In the few days that had followed, Winona¡¯s parents had been very supportive in helping their daughter getting over the incident ¨C though considering how surprisingly well Winona had handled it on day one thanks to her friend, there hadn¡¯t been a lot for them to actually do. Not that Winona wasn¡¯t grateful for it in the slightest; in fact, she still greatly appreciated it all.


    But that wasn¡¯t the troubling issue on her mind Winona wanted to talk about with her mother right now. As Winona¡¯s father and younger brother made their way to the kitchen as well, they were able to overhear her saying something about weird behaviors she¡¯d observed from Alice over the past few days ¨C namely the out-of-nowhere act of spending less and less time with her at school.


    ¡°She¡¯s always suddenly busy during lunch break, recess, or after school for reasons she never really explains to me in detail, if at all.¡± Winona continued, sitting down at the table with everyone else, ¡°And on more than a couple of occasions she just spaced out while I¡¯m talking to her, then either acted like she was totally fine, or said that she forgot about something.¡±


    After hearing what she had to say, Winona¡¯s mother, Mrs Aarons, nodded thoughtfully.


    Winona looked back at her for a moment, then asked, ¡°Am I getting way too attached to Alice? Like, obsessed to the point of making a mountain out of a molehill with these observations?¡±


    Having known Alice for almost as long as Winona had from all the time she¡¯d seen the two together, Mrs Aarons shook her head and replied, ¡°No, even to me that doesn¡¯t sound a lot like Alice.¡±


    ¡°She definitely comes across as someone who¡¯s got something on her mind, based on your words.¡± Mr Aarons said in agreement.


    ¡°My thoughts exactly!¡± Said Winona. ¡°Which is why I want to help her in any way I can with whatever that¡¯s bothering her. But I can¡¯t do that if she keeps doing stuff like this everytime I see her. I mean, even if it¡¯s an issue she thinks I can¡¯t do anything about, the least she can do is let me know even the bare minimum so that she doesn¡¯t leave her friend hanging this badly¡­¡±


    Even Winona¡¯s brother, Marvin, felt the need to pipe up, ¡°You don¡¯t think she¡¯s deliberately avoiding you¡­ right?¡± due to how serious she sounded with all of this.


    Winona sighed through a mouthful of pork from her plate, swallowed, and muttered, ¡°I wish that wasn¡¯t the case, but it sure as hell comes across like it¡­ and that¡¯s saying something, because I have no idea as to what could possibly be driving her to avoid me like this. Before, she never so much as went out of her way to avoid me or any of her other friends, even back when she was still a closeted-¡°


    That was when Winona reached the most likely assumption possible and froze where she sat. Her family stared at her in confusion and concern over what it was that could¡¯ve occurred to her, until she finally found her voice to say with nervous uncertainty, ¡°¡­you don¡¯t think all of this is because she has a crush on me or something? That she¡¯s avoiding me because she knows she doesn¡¯t have a ¡®chance¡¯ with me?¡±


    Having no idea what to say about that, Winona¡¯s family didn¡¯t say anything. Winona didn¡¯t either, but on the other hand her mind was swimming with all sorts of thoughts. From how terribly sorry she felt for Alice if her assumption was indeed the reason ¨C because no doubt it would¡¯ve given the girl so much pent-up emotions pressing down on her ¨C to how much she wanted to let Alice know she didn¡¯t want this to be the catalyst for something worse developing between them. What if Alice thought she couldn¡¯t be together with Winona (assuming that was indeed what Alice had in mind) because of her one-sided feelings and continued to avoid her? What if that continued avoidance eventually had negative effects on how they felt towards each other and resulted in them possibly drifting apart?


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Yes, while it was true Winona¡¯s feelings towards Alice weren¡¯t the same as how Alice felt towards Winona, she didn¡¯t want such a thing to get in the way of their years-long friendship. Whatever feelings Alice had for Winona didn¡¯t change the fact that she was still her dearest best friend, and that true to Winona¡¯s own words, ¡°It¡¯s only right for friends to look out for each other when in need¡± she wanted to do exactly that for Alice, like she always had.


    To do that, Winona knew she had to confront Alice with a firm yet comforting mindset ¨C one that wouldn¡¯t take any excuses coming out of Alice¡¯s mouth for an answer, while at the same time not putting Alice in any further unease she might already be in. Instead, she''d provide her with every bit of genuine understanding she could give to her as a friend, because she more than deserved it.


    That was the mindset Winona kept up all the way over to school the next day on Monday. Sure enough, opportunities to meet with Alice were extremely scarce, and even when they did meet during lunch, right after she was done eating Alice went off somewhere on her own while telling Winona she had ¡°something to do¡±.


    Having not finished her own lunch just yet, Winona unfortunately had no choice but to stay where she sat as she watched Alice walk away out of sight. Regrettably thinking to herself, ¡°I¡¯ll catch up to her later the best I can, then have a private talk with her to settle this once and for all¡­¡± Winona turned back to the rest of her food and wolfed it down as fast as she could without choking on it.


    ***


    As expected, Alice had gone to the mirrored world in the lake and was hanging out with the other Winona at their signature meeting spot. Today though, the latter had brought with her something of a pleasant surprise to show the former.


    ¡°Oh wow, this looks exactly like the one I have!¡± Alice exclaimed at the sight of what Winona held in her hand, which was a small, sparkly colorful hairpin in the shape of a butterfly. Out of instinct she reached up and touched an identical hairpin she was wearing in her hair.


    Winona gave Alice a blushing grin as she said, ¡°I just thought it¡¯d be nice if we could have matching hairpins like this as a couple¡­¡± she took a moment to embarrassingly scratch the back of her head before continuing, ¡°¡­nothing special, it¡¯s that I¡¯ve seen some people around me do stuff like this and I simply got the urge to, y¡¯know¡­¡±


    As if she¡¯d gained awareness of just how sappy she was beginning to sound with all this, Winona burst into a short fit of embarrassed laughter after saying that, ¡°Oh god, what am I saying?!¡±


    Alice patted Winona on the back to reassure her, ¡°Don¡¯t be so embarrassed, I actually kinda like this matching hairpin idea of yours.¡±


    Calming down from hearing Alice¡¯s friendly compliment, Winona blushed again with her signature coy sideways glance, and happily muttered, ¡°Ah, man¡­ what can I say but deciding to come up to you and say hi on our first day at middle school really was the best thing I ever did for myself.¡±


    By that, Alice knew Winona meant how they¡¯d first met, known, and grown close to each other since middle school ¨C which again, wasn¡¯t something this Winona should¡¯ve experienced but remembered it crystal clear all the same. Yet Alice no longer raised any questions regarding these anomalies, nor did she remotely feel like it either. From the very existence of this whole mirrored world in the lake to the things that happened before her within it, what had initially baffled and confused Alice the most had slowly but surely become the least of her concerns. All she did know about the lake¡¯s mirrored world now was that had she never discovered it, she wouldn¡¯t be here feeling the happiest and trouble-free she had ever been in ages. And it was all thanks to being fully embraced and appreciated by this alternate version of her best friend who loved her back in the same way she loved her. Hell, if anything, it felt more than ever as if she really was girlfriends with Winona.


    Maybe this whole time she¡¯d been just that much desperate for reciprocated love from Winona. Or maybe she was trying way too hard to justify not facing her problems out of fear of being hurt. But either way, Alice was simply grateful for everything that had happened from her discovery of all this, enough said.


    Alice gave Winona a grateful smile in response, then returned to the subject of the matching hairpins. ¡°Hey, you mind if I help you put that on? I wanna see how nice it looks on you.¡±


    Winona nodded and inched slightly closer to Alice so she could take the hairpin and put it in her hair for her. As she did, however, the two girls¡¯ faces also inadvertently drew closer to one another, to the point they were only a couple of inches apart from making contact.


    Noticing this the moment it occurred, Alice and Winona froze still on the bench they were sitting on together. Alice¡¯s face immediately burned up like she had a fever, while her heart beat more and more rapidly until she might as well have just finished running a mile. Yet neither of them couldn¡¯t, or wouldn¡¯t move away from each other to give themselves space; if anything, Alice felt a different kind of intangible sensation rise within her. One of a strong but innocent urge driving her to gradually lean closer towards Winona.


    Winona also began leaning forward, allowing Alice to stare longingly at the pretty face she had admired for so long as it filled more and more of her vision. Eventually, it was all she could see. And at that moment, Alice knew to close her eyes by instinct.


    Her lips softly touched Winona¡¯s, before they moved about in a passionate gesture to return the kiss they had received from Alice''s mouth.


    Then Alice felt Winona¡¯s lips move some more to whispered into hers, ¡°I can sense that your growing desire has finally ripened you up perfectly for me to consume¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Alice opened her eyes and asked out loud in a perplexed voice, but she didn¡¯t hear the word she uttered come out in the way it was supposed to. Rather, it came out all muffled and bubbly, as if she was speaking in water.


    Scratch that, Alice did see a series of bubbles issue out of her mouth in front of her. That wasn¡¯t the only thing she saw before her though ¨C seemingly everything around her, from Winona to the lakeside plants and trees, even the bench, the ground, and the sky had all vanished. In their place was what seemed to be an endless void of slightly murky, bluish-green colors enveloping her from all directions. Not just that, but Alice also felt an all too familiar sensation of cold dampness on her clothes, hair, and skin, which she realized could mean only one thing.


    She was submerged underwater.


    Without any time to try and make sense as to how any of this had happened, Alice looked up. There it was way above her, the surface of the water she was in glistening with midday sunlight, leading to another revelation; this was no longer the mirrored world within the lake, it was the lake itself.


    Of course, Alice tried swimming upwards to reach the surface, but no sooner had she begun to move a single muscle in her limbs when she felt another sensation on her skin. This time, it was more like an irritation similar to an itch, which in no time intensified to an immense, burning pain, followed by a storm of bubbles madly fizzing all around her. It was like the lakewater had suddenly turned to Mountain Dew. But if that was the case, Alice would¡¯ve been considered lucky.


    Unable to stand the burning pain on her skin, now turning to something more like stinging, Alice took a look at her hands amidst all the fizzing bubbles. What she saw made her scream more bubbles in terror.


    Not only were her clothes gradually disintegrating off her body, but her body itself looked to be disintegrating with them ¨C more precisely, the flesh turned all red and bloody as chunks of it burned and melted off her bones. Soon after, the bones too began to follow suit with the clothes and flesh the moment they were exposed to the fizzing, bubbling water.


    There was nothing else that could be done. In a matter of seconds Alice found herself only able to keep screaming at the agonizing torture of her entire body being digested alive by the lake itself. Soon she couldn¡¯t even see the hideous process for herself as her eyeballs dissolved out of their sockets, along with all her organs, every strand of her hair, every bit of what was once Alice Gray, until all that was left behind was Alice no more, but the murky bluish-green depths of the lake that had finished consuming her¡­ and the one thing it hadn¡¯t managed to digest ¨C that being the butterfly hairpin, which simply floated all the way up to the lake¡¯s surface. A surface that looked as tranquil and pretty as it had always been¡­ as if nothing had ever happened below it.


    ***


    Long ago back when the lake was just known as the fine bit of natural scenery in which only few people used to come and go occasionally, as described in the beginning, there had also been a few unfortunate accidents every now and then in which people fell into it and died.


    But while drowning accidents occurring in any bodies of water may be a common ¨C albeit unpleasant ¨C thing even today, there had always been something else about the watery deaths that had happened at this particular lake, unbeknownst to any of the people in the area.


    In reality, the lake itself was just as much of a living creature as any of the animals living in the natural environment around it ¨C a most peculiar being seeming to defy all logic known to mankind so far, like a lot of the most outlandish freaks of nature to ever exist on earth typically were. And much like how every carnivore needed prey to hunt down and consume for itself, the lake had its own way of doing so.


    All sentient living beings typically have minds and lives of their own. And with those minds and lives likewise comes one of the many things that keeps any life going; desire. From fulfilling the basics such as the need to feed, or rest, or drink, and much more, to the more complex things the equally more complex living beings known as humans strive for most of the time, desire has always been part of life ¨C which is what the lake utilized so well to its advantage in fulfilling its own desires to consume and sustain itself.


    If any kind of living being (namely a human, as they always had the best ones for the lake to take advantage of) with any kind of pent-up desires buried deep within their minds was to come into any kind of physical contact with the lake¡¯s waters, that was enough for the lake to fully recognize and understand what that person truly wanted in their lives, like a literal look into their thoughts. After that was done, similar to how pitcher plants attract insects with their nectar and looks, the lake then lured in the prey it latched onto through the use of extremely convincing visions ¨C visions of varying subjects and nature depending on what the person¡¯s deepest and most desperate desires were about. Once the person got hooked on the visions, the lake would continue using them over the course of long periods of time, making the person want to keep coming back for more, and thus enable their desires to grow ever greater. For the deeper the desire, the more flavorous the flesh became for the lake when it was finally time for it to stop playing with its food and get on with eating it. That was why humans were its best target, because unlike the desires of most other living beings on earth, theirs were susceptible to as much exploitation as the lake wanted for them to be delectable enough for its tastes.


    That was how the lake had operated for countless ages, being able to sustain itself for many lengthy years off of even a single human consumption. However, with passing time also came change. And for the lake, said change came in the form of humans building an entire city, and eventually a school around it. A school in which despite the lack of any physical barriers, nobody ever came into even the slightest contact with the lake¡¯s waters, very much unlike the old days.


    By then, the lake had grown weary, desperate, and starved. It could only go on for so long since its last consumption before hunger got the better of it. It seemed as if the lake would never eat again and eventually wither away¡­


    ¡­and what should fall ¨C or rather, accidentally walk ¨C right into the watery grasps of the lake but a lone schoolgirl who¡¯d been absent-mindedly walking along its shore? A schoolgirl whose desires were the perfect target for the lake to exploit the moment it sensed them through her feet entering the water ¨C fear-fueled insecurity over what to do about the crush she had on her best friend. A deep, yet simple enough desire that the lake could easily use to its advantage through visions of the very thing this poor unfortunate new target so longed for¡­ that being a reciprocation of love from her friend who, through a swift scan of all the girl¡¯s memories with her, the lake also learned everything about so as to come up with the perfect image to create in its vision.


    And the moment the girl tripped and fell into the water, the rest was history.


    ***


    After asking several students out and about during lunch break whether they saw Alice passing by, and getting a sense of direction as to where she could¡¯ve gone based on the descriptions given from the few people who did see her, Winona eventually ended up at the lakeside. But even there, Alice was nowhere to be found amongst the several other students minding their own business by the shore. Upon asking, only one of them claimed to have seen Alice walking off on her own somewhere along the lakeside path that almost nobody ever seemed to go.


    Of course, Winona wasted no time in hurrying along that very path in search of her friend. Frankly, if she was to have a private talk with Alice, seeing how the student she asked did say almost nobody ever seemed to go this way, Winona felt like this could be a decent place for one.


    But that was assuming she did indeed find Alice somewhere up the path. As even after several minutes of fast-walking along this unexplored part of the lakeside, Winona still couldn¡¯t see any sign of her. How far around the lake could she have possibly gone for this to occur?


    Half-exhausted from all the distance she¡¯d walked so far, and half-exasperated at her failure to locate her friend, Winona eventually turned her gaze to the lake beside her in the hopes that the nice sight could at the very least calm her mind for a moment.


    Instead, her mind was greeted with puzzled surprise when she saw something on the surface of the lake. Right at the edge of the water, floating about like a sparkly, colorful leaf that fell off one of the many trees around the area, was Alice¡¯s butterfly hairpin. Having seen Alice wear it in her hair wherever she went ever since she bought the thing, Winona immediately recognized it.


    ¡°What¡¯s this doing here?¡± She wondered aloud. Without thinking much else of it, she bent down and reached forth to retrieve it, while in the process dipping the very tips of her fingers into the lakewater awaiting a potential brand new target with brand new desires on its mind.

 3rd Interlude

    ¡°Wow¡­¡± Annabelle heard Luna mutter in what sounded like indecisiveness, as if she had no idea what to make of what she¡¯d just heard, ¡°¡­that was something else compared to the previous two.¡±


    ¡°Pretty different, yeah.¡± Agreed Malcolm. ¡°That¡¯s not to say it didn¡¯t do the job of keeping our minds off things, though ¨C then again, what wouldn¡¯t at this point¡­¡± he then quickly added at the last second after realizing what he¡¯d said, ¡°¡­but I digress. Good story, it really was.¡±


    Henrik spoke next with some mild fascination in his voice, ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could do this well in the drama genre about as much as your typical comfort zone of horror.¡±


    At this, Malcolm piped up, ¡°That last bit, though ¨C that was undoubtedly and precisely an Annabelle Deckard-esque thing. Excruciatingly detailed descriptions of a person being eaten and digested alive? Brrr¡­ that¡¯s probably gonna live rent-free in my head for god knows how long even after we¡¯re out of here and safe and sound in the back of an ambulance.¡±


    Annabelle obviously knew Malcolm was only trying his best to be funny for the same reason she was telling these stories in the first place. But at the same time she didn¡¯t know how to feel about him doing so while occasionally letting slip reminders of their predicament that might rub the others the wrong way. Because no sooner had Malcolm finished his sentence, Luna immediately opened her mouth, no doubt to change the subject, ¡°I¡¯m kinda curious, was there any inspiration for making up a story like this one? Just asking, because again, this was a rather surprising but decent departure from what we¡¯re used to seeing from you.¡±


    Annabelle replied, ¡°I was channel surfing at home this one day when I randomly turned on a movie channel that happened to be showing the first Harry Potter movie. It was during the scene where Harry tried to show his parents in the Mirror of Erised to Ron but all Ron saw was a reflection of himself as both Head Boy and Quidditch captain.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh.¡± Henrik said in a slow tone of realization, ¡°I think I have a hunch as to where you¡¯re going with this.¡±


    Annabelle huffed a single small chuckle and continued, ¡°I knew you might say that the moment I mentioned the mirror. Though it wasn¡¯t until the scene where Dumbledore explains to Harry the functions and dangers of the mirror that I really got the gears turning in my head. Because if you actually think about it, the idea of people being consumed by their own desires to the point of forgetting to live in the now, or just life in general, is pretty terrifying on its own.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Luna mumbled, and Annabelle thought she heard her nodding against the headrest of her car seat, ¡°I too remember Dumbledore saying that men either wasted away or went insane from obsessing over what they saw in the mirror.¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°¡¯It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live¡¯.¡± Henrik recited the famous quote and said, ¡°Words of wisdom to live by, if you ask me.¡±


    ¡°So you got the idea of people being consumed by their desires,¡± Said Malcolm, ¡°and decided to take the ¡®consumed¡¯ part literally for your story?¡±


    ¡°In a nutshell.¡± Annabelle replied. Though there had actually been much more than just that to her story¡¯s creation, she¡¯d figured she might as well also bring a little levity of her own for all of their sake, hence the answer.


    ¡°When you put it that way,¡± Luna said thoughtfully, ¡°I¡¯d say you did put a nice spin of your own on the idea. Though I also must admit the story¡¯s pretty hard to categorize as a specific thing, and thus somewhat harder to raise certain expectations towards.¡±


    ¡°Like say, you can¡¯t expect a full-on drama story because then the ending will really throw you off, but then you can¡¯t say this is a straightforward horror story either because it¡¯s not really horror for the most part.¡± Malcolm added in agreement.


    In response to that, Henrik piped up, ¡°I guess there¡¯s always the option of categorizing it as a supernatural drama with a dash of horror elements. Hell, add that to the high school setting and the girl-to-girl love thing, and I was close to start comparing it to that 1999 movie, Memento Mori.¡±


    Slightly surprised at this unexpectedly random reference, Annabelle asked, ¡°You¡¯ve seen that too? I thought I was the only one out of us who did.¡±


    For some reason Henrik remained silent and didn¡¯t answer, while Annabelle instead heard Malcolm speak next, ¡°That was what it reminded you of? Because I was thinking more of Coraline ¨C you know, girl protagonist who¡¯s dissatisfied with her current life, enters a world where everything seems the same except with certain things changed to her liking, said world turns out to be a trap set up by an entity who tries to eat her up¡­ minus the happy ending.¡±


    Having also been aware of these parallels back when she had first conceived the story, Annabelle asked as another sort of joke to lighten things up, ¡°So you¡¯re saying this story was just a version of Coraline where the Other Mother wins and sets her eyes on a next victim?¡±


    Being himself, Malcolm returned the gesture, ¡°Overall, nicely done story, but slight points off for falling short in terms of originality.¡±


    ¡°And I suppose zombies and creepy trees have never been done before?¡± Annabelle responded with yet another joke which, surprisingly, cracked all four of them up a fair amount ¨C something Annabelle didn¡¯t think they would¡¯ve been able to do right now even if Malcolm had said the funniest thing ever known to mankind.


    Nevertheless, Annabelle was grateful for that bit of laughter among them, no matter how short-lived it had been. Somehow, more than ever before, it gave her the much-needed reassurance that things were going to be okay in the end. Sure, no amount of laughter or distractions via storytelling could do anything like make help arrive faster or suddenly vanish the aching pain all over her body. But at that moment Annabelle saw this as a sign that they were enduring their crisis well enough. She now had more hope for all of them, that they¡¯d most certainly pull themselves through to the light at the end of this tunnel.


    Just then, Annabelle was brought back to earth when Malcolm spoke up in his most positive tone of voice since the crash, as if he¡¯d been thinking the same things as her, ¡°Well, I think this calls for yet another round to keep passing the time, don¡¯t you?¡±


    And for once, in her state of very mildly lifted spirits, Annabelle couldn¡¯t agree more.

 Never Look Back (1/2)

    An uncanny darkness shrouded every inch of the forest. The sky was an endless roof of the most unsettling shade of black, covering up the world in all its overbearing presence.


    Amongst the countless trees towering above the ground, a lone man could be seen walking through the forest in what looked like a sort of dazed state. Apart from those, no other signs of life could be seen anywhere. Not a single bird up on a tree branch, or a squirrel scurrying about. Not even a breeze rustling through the leaves high above the man¡¯s head.


    There also seemed to be no sound either ¨C one of the only sources of what few sounds still remained was the man¡¯s footsteps, which came off slightly muted, like listening to them through a thin wall.


    Eventually, the man stopped in his tracks. Several feet in front of him lay a massive wall of rough and jagged stone. A small cave opening could also be seen in it. Even amidst the sheer darkness engulfing its entire surroundings, this particular hole in the rock looked especially pitch black. Even more than the sky, and that was saying something ¨C an inky, unevenly shaped void on a surface of dimly lit granite-gray.


    The man stood staring into the cave in the same dazed state he¡¯d been in while walking up to it. He blinked a couple of times, then his brows furrowed slightly in visible confusion.


    ¡°What?¡± He asked, which felt louder than it should have in the suffocating dead silence.


    He blinked again, and his brow furrowed even more. He brought a trembling hand up to one of his temples. He blinked again, and his gaze broke away from the cave opening as his eyes began to rapidly dart around in their sockets.


    ¡°No¡­¡± The man muttered. The confusion on his face slowly turned to denial, then panic. ¡°No, no, no, no¡­!¡± He shook his head now clutched tightly in both his hands by the temples, ¡°You¡¯re not¡­ you¡¯re not her¡­ you¡¯re not her¡­! You can¡¯t be her! You¡¯re lying!¡±


    Then man then fell to his knees with his eyes clenched shut. The hands on his temples clasped over his ears even tighter. All while the man gave his everything to block out whatever audible disturbance was happening to them. ¡°Stop it¡­! Stop it! STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!¡±


    But no amount of repeatedly screaming frightened words at the thing he was trying to shield his ears from was apparently working, as the man was now practically writhing on the spot like someone being tortured, shaking his head in desperate, dreaded denial, ¡°GET AWAY FROM ME!!! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!!!!¡±


    With those last two sentences he bellowed at the top of his lungs, and by now looking like he was about to crush his own head with his bare hands from how he had them clasped over his ears, the man finally gathered up every bit of strength left in his legs to stagger back up to his feet. He was only a split second away from turning his back on the cave and bolting for his life, but before doing any of that, he shot his tightly shut eyes back open.


    The man¡¯s mouth opened up as wide as his terror-stricken eyes at the sight before him, before he shattered the dark, muted stillness with a blood-curdling scream.


    Then the silence was almost immediately restored. No more footsteps, no more repeatedly spoken frightened words, and no more screams of terror.


    No more man.


    No more anything.


    Nothing.


    Nothing except for the forest itself.


    ***


    ¡°So are you actually gonna do it tomorrow?¡± One of two men making their way out of an office asked the other beside him.


    Letting a nervous yet excited sigh out from a pair of blushing, puffed-up cheeks, the other man told his companion, ¡°No better time for it other than tomorrow evening ¨C I¡¯ve made up my mind, and I¡¯m not allowing myself to chicken out of it this time.¡±


    The man who first spoke gave the other a genuine look of reassurance as they reached the elevator and pressed the button, ¡°C¡¯mon Thomas, have some confidence in both yourself and what you¡¯ve got with Claire.¡± Then he added half-jokingly, ¡°I mean, not that this lonesome bachelor would be an expert on these things, but based on what I¡¯ve seen from how close you two are by this point, there is no way she¡¯s turning down a proposal from you.¡±


    Just as the elevator arrived and opened up before them, Thomas returned a timid but grateful smile to his colleague for the kind words and said in thanks, ¡°You always know how to say the right stuff to people, don¡¯t you Nathan?¡±


    Visibly flattered at the compliment, Nathan just looked out the elevator window showing the scenery outside as they descended to the first floor, ¡°I¡¯m just trying to help out, that¡¯s all.¡±


    This widened the smile on Thomas¡¯ face, even as Nathan said something about a scenario he rather wouldn¡¯t think about just now, ¡°Even if Claire does turn down your proposal, what does it matter? That¡¯s not gonna so much as bring forth the end of the world, much less your relationship with her. Most likely it¡¯ll just mean her mind isn¡¯t ready for such a huge leap yet, in which case time will be on your side for that ¨C know what I mean?¡±


    Thomas honestly didn¡¯t get that much reassurance out of Nathan¡¯s words this time, but knowing the good intentions they still carried, he simply said, ¡°Thanks again.¡± For now. Then as the elevator stopped and opened its doors on the first floor, he added just for a good laugh on their way out, ¡°Gotta say, you offer some genuinely great relationship advice for someone who¡¯s single.¡± To which Nathan cracked up with him while asking in a tone of pretend offense, ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean, huh?¡±


    Later that evening at home, Thomas sat resting on his living room couch. Barely paying any attention to the TV he''d turned on in front of him, he kept thinking about the conversation he had with Nathan earlier. This also brought to mind the few previous times he¡¯d wanted to propose to Claire over a date. As badly as he had wanted to get the word out to her, every attempt so far had ended in failure. All because his damned weak mind always let his doubts, nerves, and lack of confidence get the better of him. And with every failed attempt, he¡¯d come back home full of resentment towards himself for not having the guts to do it, only for the same thing to happen again and again on the next dates.


    Well, not this time.


    Ignoring a news report about an investigation on a hiker gone missing in the local woods, Thomas sat up in his seat to reach out to the coffee table in front of him, from which he picked up a small velvety ring box. He opened it to reveal a shiny engagement ring topped with a pretty little jewel. It wasn¡¯t much, but being the complete opposite of a materialistic individual, Claire had never been one to obsess over things like this, as shown from the way she always told Thomas, ¡°If it¡¯s from you sweetie, I¡¯m all for it.¡± Which was just her own way of saying that it¡¯s the thought that counts. And Thomas would be damned if he ever provided the love of his life anything he didn¡¯t put genuine heart into, especially something of great importance as a proposal.


    On top of that, regardless of how reassured Thomas felt from hearing them, Nathan¡¯s words of advice were a thousand times right. If the fear of being turned down was what had been holding him back this whole time, so what then? What did he have to lose from hearing Claire say ¡°no¡± in response? As far as Thomas could tell, no relationship he knew of ever ended because of a rejected marriage proposal. Based on that, the most harm ¨C if you could even call it that ¨C a rejection could bring to him and Claire was probably immense awkwardness hanging in the air while they made their way back home from their date. And even that wasn¡¯t anything which couldn¡¯t be easily solved with the help of time.


    Also, if Claire¡¯s reason for saying no was indeed because she wasn¡¯t ready just yet, then it was like Nathan said; waiting was the answer, and for someone like Claire, Thomas could do that. So after all that said, why even bother worrying, no less over a future not even set in stone?


    With those thoughts in mind, Thomas nodded in determination. Staring at the ring as if he could already see it being on Claire¡¯s finger, he muttered to himself under his breath, ¡°You¡¯re not a shy little schoolboy anymore, be the grown ass man that you are already!¡±


    ***


    Before Thomas knew it, Saturday evening was here, and so was the big opportunity. Not forgetting to take the ring box with him, Thomas made his way over to Claire¡¯s house in his car, where he picked her up in a rather excited state.


    ¡°Looking forward to tonight, aren¡¯t you?¡± Thomas asked amusingly, watching Claire get in the passenger seat with a big enthusiastic smile on her face.


    Claire couldn¡¯t help chuckling a bit at that, before she replied with an equally amused shrug, ¡°Oh well, it¡¯s only getting to see my all-time favorite movie on the big screen for the first time with you of all people, so yeah, I am looking forward to it!¡±


    Their date this evening was to be at a local drive-in theater where the screenings were a mix of both new releases and old classics. And upon finding out through the theater¡¯s website that it was scheduled this evening to show a particular film from 1990 she had a great fondness for, Claire had asked Thomas if they could watch it together on their free time. Obviously, he¡¯d happily agreed to it.


    Driving off, Thomas smiled both to himself and at Claire. Perhaps it was the thought of what he intended to do later after the movie, or he was simply glad to see his love in such a bright mood, but either way, for some reason her enthusiasm just felt so infectious at the moment. This led to him getting the urge to humor her further on their way with more playful comments, ¡°I¡¯m honestly going into this movie completely blind, so I don¡¯t know what to expect other than hopefully a good time¡­ but then again, what isn¡¯t a good time when we¡¯re together?¡±


    Claire chuckled even more, knowing Thomas wasn¡¯t being 100% serious but still appreciating his choice of words. She then responded with a blush and a sideways glance at him, saying, ¡°Ditto.¡±


    Thomas recognized that as Claire¡¯s signature gesture towards anything she agreed with him on. Ever since they¡¯d first started dating, Thomas had always heard Claire utter the word ¡°Ditto¡± instead of the more typical expressions of agreement. Initially he¡¯d simply thought of it as a funny quirk of hers and did nothing else than humor it. As time went by though, and their bond brought them closer to each other, he found himself using it just as casually as she did, to the point it had become something like their own thing by now.


    Little did Thomas know, tonight¡¯s date would reveal to him where exactly this quirk of Claire¡¯s had originated. But right now that wasn¡¯t his concern. What was his current concern though, was when he looked over at Claire while they had pulled over at a stoplight and saw she¡¯d forgotten something.


    ¡°Claire, your seatbelt.¡± Thomas pointed out, and Claire glanced down at herself to see she hadn¡¯t fastened it over her body, to which she hurriedly did so and said, ¡°My bad ¨C I forgot.¡± Then as soon as the red light turned to green she mumbled to herself, ¡°Of all the things I keep forgetting every time I get in a car¡­¡±


    However, that seemingly trivial matter quickly vanished from both of their minds, as the rest of the ride towards the drive-in theater remained mostly uneventful. And when they did get there, they were immediately preoccupied with tending to other things, mainly setting the car radio at the right frequency before the movie ¨C which turned out to be ¡°Ghost¡± starring Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore ¨C began.


    As he¡¯d said earlier, Thomas knew next to nothing about the movie they were watching (he didn¡¯t bother looking it up beforehand because he didn¡¯t want to be spoiled), so he expected to get one or two surprises out of this first-time-watching. That said, only a few several minutes in and he found himself already taken aback at certain lines of dialogue spoken between the two leads.


    Slightly laughing out of surprise, he whispered to Claire, ¡°So this is where you learned to say ¡®Ditto¡¯?¡±


    Claire laughed along with him and nodded. ¡°This movie really changed the meaning of that word for a lot of people, you¡¯ll see why by the end.¡± She replied in a manner of a person trying to explain a freshly exposed embarrassing secret, albeit without the smile fading from her face even a bit.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The same could be said for Thomas, who found this revelation genuinely cute and wholesome. It was like getting to see a new side of his girlfriend ¨C soon to be fianc¨¦e ¨C he didn¡¯t know before; AKA another part of Claire for him to love along with the rest of her. With those thoughts in mind, he held her hand and said, ¡°If this movie really is that well-made to affect a whole generation like that, and for you to call it your absolute favorite, I wouldn¡¯t put it past it.¡±


    Thomas felt Claire hold his hand back as she said, ¡°You¡¯ll never hear ¡®Ditto¡¯ the same way again after this, I guarantee.¡± Followed by another joy-filled exchange of laughs.


    Actually, the movie didn¡¯t really end up affecting how Thomas conceived the word, but he was too polite to tell Claire that. He was just happy enough to cherish it in his heart as one of the countless special things he had between his love and no one else. Kind of similar to the leading couple in the movie, except unlike those two, their exchanges of the expression had never been one-sided.


    Nonetheless, he still had just as much of a great time as Claire did throughout the whole runtime. Definitely a touching story worth checking out with a loved one, Thomas thought ¨C especially with a loved one.


    Speaking of which, by the time the end credits were nearly finished rolling (the two had deliberately waited a bit while enjoying the end credits¡¯ music for all the other cars to exit, so they¡¯d have an easier time doing the same), Thomas felt around in his pocket for the ring box. This moment was just as he¡¯d envisioned; the air was in the perfect ambience for a proposal, what with them just being done watching a beautifully made romantic movie for their date and everything. All he had to do was say the right words to Claire, present the ring to her with the question, and receive the answer he¡¯d longed to hear from her, once and for all.


    But he didn¡¯t go for it. Despite his determinations the other night telling himself to man up and just do the deed already, those damned four words in his mind, ¡°once and for all¡± had begun to rile up his doubts and anxieties yet again.


    Would it indeed really be ¡°once and for all¡± if he proposed right now and got his desired answer?


    ¡°Urgh, don¡¯t be so stupid, you wuss¡­¡± Thomas thought to himself to stop his godforsaken nerves from clouding his judgement, like they had so many times before. ¡°Remember Nathan¡¯s advice, even if she says no now, it doesn¡¯t mean she won¡¯t say yes later¡­¡±


    When would be ¡°later¡± though, asked the other part of Thomas¡¯ mind he so desperately wished would shut the hell up already. He knew he¡¯d told himself he could be patient for any amount of time for Claire to be ready someday if she wasn¡¯t, but how true would that be if it actually happened? How did anyone know what could possibly happen during all that so-called waiting time?


    Pretending to keep listening to the movie¡¯s soundtrack playing through the radio, Thomas clenched his eyes shut for a second in utter frustration. ¡°Don¡¯t let your damn nerves take you over again,¡± he thought, ¡°you¡¯ll just end up going home full of regret for the umpteenth time, what are you even having such thoughts for after all you¡¯ve done so far¡­¡±


    ¡°Thomas? Honey? Aren¡¯t we getting out? Almost everyone seems to be gone now.¡±


    Having been so wrapped up in his own mind, Thomas hadn¡¯t even noticed nearly all the parking spaces in front of the screen had already been vacated. His car was one of the few still remaining.


    ¡°Ah, my bad.¡± Said Thomas, secretly grateful to Claire for snapping him out of it. He started the car up and cooked up a quick excuse as he buckled his seatbelt, ¡°I probably got way too distracted by the music ¨C great score for a fittingly great movie, it really is.¡±


    It must¡¯ve worked, because all Claire did in response was huff a small snort of agreement through her nose and shrug, along with her signature, ¡°Ditto.¡±


    Thomas laughed with her again ¨C both because he felt like it and to keep up his illusion ¨C and proceeded to drive the car out of the drive-in theater.


    Thomas silently breathed a slow sigh that went unnoticed by Claire and felt the ring box in his pocket once more. That familiar sensation of resentment began to replace his anxiety even as he shifted his focus on driving back home.


    Not again. Damn him and his irrational fears.


    His eyes then landed on his car¡¯s navigation system screen for a split second, where the vehicle was shown as a small green arrow moving along a simplified overhead view of the area, along with how much estimated time they had left before they arrived.


    That gave Thomas a sense of hope. Their date might¡¯ve ended a couple of minutes ago along with the movie, but he wasn¡¯t to part ways with Claire until she was home.


    ¡°It ain¡¯t over until it¡¯s over.¡± Thought Thomas. He still had a chance to make up for the one he¡¯d let himself miss back at the theater ¨C he would pop the question to Claire when they stopped by her house, and this time there would be no excuses for real. He would let no amount of irrational fears interfere with him finally getting this over with before he could bid Claire goodbye for the night and watch her head inside. If Claire¡¯s front door was his window of opportunity, there was no way it was closing without him getting the word out.


    Taking another split second to glance at Claire this time, Thomas gripped the steering wheel with more resoluteness in him than before. However, even as he turned his gaze back to where anyone¡¯s gaze ought to belong during driving, something he¡¯d noticed about Claire just now flashed past his mind at the speed of light ¨C that is, before an actual light suddenly flashed before him in a moment of blinding white.


    ¡°What the-!¡± Thomas uttered a startled shout and tried to swerve his car away from the light He immediately recognized it as the headlights of a truck coming right in their direction. At the same time, Thomas also heard Claire scream out his name in terror. And that was the last thing either of them remembered before there came a deafening crash of metal and glass, at once followed by the whole car coming to a violently abrupt halt that threw Thomas into the abyss.


    ***


    Everything felt numb and agonizing at the same time. Thomas was surrounded by a garble of incoherent noises that sounded like countless people talking over one another, accompanied by a high-pitched wail in the background. He could neither move nor make out anything within his vision, until a white light was shone in his eyes a second time.


    Instinctively his eyes followed the brief movements of the light before it was extinguished. Once the light¡¯s afterimage went away, Thomas was able to see the pitch black of the night sky before him. In front of that, there were also the heads of several people standing around and looking at him. That was how Thomas realized he was lying down somewhere, possibly a stretcher.


    As soon as this had registered with him, Thomas gingerly turned his head sideways to take in the rest of what was happening around him. On his left was what looked like a heap of crumpled metal on wheels, which used to be his car and the truck that had crashed into it. Not far from the wreckage, witnessed by a whole crowd of people circling the scene, was a police car and a couple of officers seemingly apprehending someone Thomas couldn¡¯t quite make out.


    Then onto the right his gaze went. What greeted him on that side was an ambulance with its back doors wide open. As it turned out, the high-pitched wailing noise was actually its siren. Between all this and what he last remembered before waking up, Thomas was just piecing together what must¡¯ve happened to him and Claire, when a second group of paramedics came into sight. They too were tending to a stretcher, on which Thomas could somehow make out¡­


    ¡°Claire¡­?¡± He could barely mumble in a pained sort of groan upon recognizing his girlfriend lying still on the stretcher. He couldn¡¯t, however, hear what the paramedics around her were saying, if they were saying anything at all. They didn¡¯t even seem to be doing all that much either for some reason, only looking at Claire and each other, then back at Claire again.


    Thomas eventually felt the stretcher he was on being lifted up as his group of paramedics reached the back of a different ambulance. Soon all he could see was the white walls of the emergency vehicle. But that wasn¡¯t before Thomas managed to get a good look at the paramedics surrounding Claire cover her still motionless body from head to toe with a white sheet.


    ¡°Claire¡­ Claire¡­ Claire¡­!¡± All Thomas could bring himself to do as the ambulance closed its doors and took off to the nearest hospital was continue to call out Claire¡¯s name in the same state of both numbness and agony his whole body was in. More precisely, those sensations were now bleeding into his heart, striking him with a new kind of pain that gradually coursed through him like a lethal injection amidst everything else. And the only thing either his mind or body was able to muster up in response to this torture was to repeat the name through his bruised lips.


    Even though he knew Claire was neither with him nor could hear him right now.


    Even though he knew she never would be able to from this day forth.


    ***


    Thomas was brought up to speed on everything at the hospital much later when he¡¯d recovered to a stable enough condition. On his and Claire¡¯s way home, his car had gotten into an accident with a drunk-driving truck. Whoever had been behind the truck¡¯s wheel was of course expected to be put behind bars, hence the scene with the police officers Thomas remembered witnessing.


    As for him and Claire¡­ needless to say he was lucky to be found alive in the crashed vehicle. But on the other hand, nearby witnesses and the paramedics who¡¯d arrived at the scene later had been greeted with something far more different with Claire ¨C that being her bloodied, lifeless body thrown out in the middle of the road after the crash had sent her flying through the windshield, what with the seatbelt she¡¯d forgotten to buckle again being unable to prevent it.


    As the whole story fully sank into his mind during his stay at the hospital, Thomas knew only one thing; none of the medicine or physical therapy he received here would ever help him recover from this. It didn¡¯t matter if he was able to stand on his own two feet again when everything inside him had collapsed beyond repair. Humpty Dumpty was in less pieces than his heart at this point.


    Never mind the torture of being bedridden all day and night so as to let his bones knit and other things, just being alive here in a reality where Claire wasn¡¯t gave Thomas infinitely greater suffering. A perpetual torment from which running far away to a better place was impossible, on injured legs or not. There was simply no escape no matter how badly he wanted it.


    The same could be said for the shattered, devastated mess that was his mind. Every moment of every day he lay awake in bed, Thomas found himself trapped in his own memories that forced him to relive either all the happier past times he¡¯d spent with Claire, or the harrowing sight of the sheet-covered corpse that signaled the end of those days. Even his dreams were no different, as almost every night in which he silently cried himself to sleep, he was greeted with nightmares of either the same imagery of Claire¡¯s dead body on a stretcher, or him having a good time with her like they always had before she was violently and abruptly taken away from him.


    By the time he was able to sit upright in bed to properly receive visits, such as those from his elderly parents and his friends (mostly a genuinely very worried Nathan), Thomas was so broken inside he wasn¡¯t sure if it was possible for him to feel anything anymore. Though he was still grateful for the visits, all their words of concern or wishing him a good recovery just fell on deaf ears. Now whenever his mind replayed any past memories of Claire for him, his insides turned into a great, empty black hole of nothingness, as if he could feel any more of that than he already did.


    This was the mindset Thomas came back home from the hospital in after an amount of time he couldn¡¯t care less on how long it had been. He also didn¡¯t care that his workplace had given him some days off for him to return later on a recovered enough state, nor that his parents and Nathan had scheduled for him therapist sessions to attend during that time.


    As far as Thomas was concerned, regardless of how much he wanted to appreciate these efforts by people who cared for him from the bottom of their hearts, none of those things mattered. Because none of them could do anything to provide him with what he wanted most badly right now; Claire.


    As impossible as Thomas fully knew it was, he just wanted her back in his life. After everything they had been through together, as well as everything they had to live for together in the days to come, he refused to suddenly be thrust into this hell where Claire wasn¡¯t here to help him pull through. Despite his body¡¯s full recovery, he might as well have lost half of himself in the accident with how much he couldn¡¯t bear even the thought of having to just keep going on like this.


    To add insult to injury, all those thoughts were immensely and uncontrollably intensified by what Thomas had wanted to do for Claire on the night of the crash. And now with her gone forever, after all those chances he¡¯d had but foolishly backed out of, he would never get even a single one of those precious chances again. He hadn¡¯t known what he¡¯d got until it was too late.


    That said, Thomas thought several days later, sitting on the living room couch as motionless as the way he felt inside ¨C dead ¨C what wouldn¡¯t he be able to give if somehow, SOMEHOW, he was able to get one last, albeit most certainly out-of-reach, chance? This thought first began on the third day Thomas had returned home from the hospital, during which he¡¯d been mindlessly organizing a few things around the house. Before long though, what should he randomly come across then but the engagement ring (that had miraculously survived the crash as well) he¡¯d intended to give to Claire?


    And so had begun a whole new torture from then on, consisting of immeasurable remorse leaving Thomas¡¯ already broken heart even more crushed than his car after the accident. Not just remorse over his failure to propose while he still could, but also over irrational things nobody, let alone he himself, had any way of knowing. ¡°What if I¡¯d popped the question to her right after she¡¯d told me we had to leave? Could have the few minutes we took to stay there longer while I proposed done anything to change things? What if by delaying our time getting out of that theater even for just a little bit, we could¡¯ve prevented ourselves from coming across that drunk truck driver? Is it my fault that Claire died? Is her blood on my hands for not noticing she didn¡¯t have her seatbelt on again?¡±


    With his brain plagued by this train of thought never leaving him no matter what he did, Thomas had tried turning to distractions that he hoped would get all of this out of his head. One of those distractions had been searching for anything to watch on a streaming service. But as his luck would have it, while scrolling through a long list of movies, Thomas had somehow managed to run across one that acted as a piercing reminder of his misery the second he¡¯d noticed it on his computer screen ¨C Ghost.


    Instantly drained of the mood to do anything, Thomas just resorted to lying on his bed in another fit of silent sobs. All while his tear-blurred vision also filled with flashbacks of that last night he¡¯d spent with Claire watching Ghost together.


    Amidst those mental images of the movie, however, Thomas then randomly recalled a specific plot point from it which, in spite of himself, stopped his sobbing at once; more specifically, the character of Oda Mae Brown, the psychic who had helped bring Sam and Molly together again after the former¡¯s unfortunate death. And that one random memory had eventually become the catalyst for the aforementioned idea of a possible one last chance.


    Yes, no doubt he¡¯d gotten disturbingly desperate to have such thoughts in the first place, but at the moment Thomas didn¡¯t care even for that either. The loss of his dearest love, coupled with this one bit of excruciatingly long-unfinished business, had so devastatingly infected his mind, it was by now reaching a state in which reason or common sense could no longer get to him. Thomas was determined that he¡¯d never be able to be at peace again until he grasped at that extra chance, and he wasn¡¯t going to take anything else for an answer.

 Never Look Back (2/2)

    Several more days later, Nathan was at the doorstep of Thomas¡¯ house, ringing the doorbell. What with him happening to have free time on his hands over the weekend, he¡¯d wanted to check up on his friend and see how his recovery was going. Of course, Nathan could¡¯ve also simply called Thomas on the phone for this. But as his friend, and considering the magnitude of what Thomas must be going through, he¡¯d figured it was best if he paid a face-to-face visit instead.


    However, the moment Thomas answered the door and let his friend in, Nathan was thunderstruck at what he was greeted with. Thomas had an undecipherable look on his face which greatly took Nathan aback upon first glance, due to how much it almost didn¡¯t feel like the person he knew. It wasn¡¯t that Thomas looked like he wasn¡¯t taking care of himself ¨C far from it, actually ¨C it was just that even for someone supposedly in deep grief, there was something extremely off about him.


    Then there was Thomas¡¯ responses to the questions Nathan asked him out of concern, such as how he was doing, whether there was anything he needed or if the scheduled therapy sessions were of any help; ¡°Things have been worse, but they¡¯re definitely looking up now.¡±, ¡°Thanks but it¡¯s fine, I¡¯ve gone out of my way to find more than everything I could ever need.¡±, ¡°I found someone way better, mind if I tell you about it?¡±


    Last but not least, there was what Nathan noticed when Thomas invited him to sit down in the living room. Apparently before Nathan¡¯s arrival, Thomas had been browsing something on his still open laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch, which Nathan saw was a website regarding some sort of spiritual medium.


    Between Thomas acting like half of his screws had gotten loose and what was on that laptop screen, it didn¡¯t take long for Nathan to put two and two together and confront Thomas about it, ¡°Thomas¡­ what on earth have you been doing?¡±


    Exactly as Nathan had feared, Thomas went on to explain how he¡¯d been researching mediums in the hopes that one of them would be able to help him reach out to Claire. Pointing to the laptop, he said, ¡°That one you see right there, that¡¯s the last medium I visited ¨C after I told him everything about Claire he said he needed to know, and you¡¯re not gonna believe this, he actually channeled Claire before my eyes!¡±


    Oblivious to how baffled Nathan looked at the sheer absurdity he was listening to right now, Thomas continued his story, ¡°Better late than never, they say¡­ I finally got to ask Claire if she would¡¯ve said yes to my proposal, and she did! Whole thing cost way more money than I expected in the end, especially with all the other ones I¡¯ve visited beforehand, but it was more than worth it. I¡¯m expecting myself to pay that one another visit sometime soon if it means getting to hear Claire again¡­¡±


    Nathan took a brief moment to comprehend all this, then proceeded to break some much-needed truth to Thomas, ¡°Mate, I know you miss Claire really badly, but this is not the way to go with things! She¡¯s long gone, that¡¯s it! I¡¯m terribly sorry to put it that way, but it¡¯s just the truth. You can¡¯t afford to waste your life ¨C or money, for that matter ¨C on what you can¡¯t do anything about anymore.¡±


    Even as Thomas responded to this with a nearly offended tone of, ¡°What?¡± Nathan kept going, ¡°On top of that, how desperate could you be to think these folks can do the impossible task of actually channeling the dead? Don¡¯t you know most if not all these so-called ¡®mediums¡¯ are pretty much phonies who get paid to tell people only what they want to hear as a surrogate for satisfaction?¡±


    Thomas tried to argue weakly, as if what his friend was telling him was slowly sinking in but some part of his mind kept refusing to believe it, ¡°You don¡¯t know that for sure-¡° however Nathan wasn¡¯t done yet, ¡°This guy you went to, when he was supposedly channeling Claire, do you recall anything he said? Did he ever mention anything outside of the limited information you gave him about her?¡±


    This was the brick wall that stopped whatever argument Thomas had dead in its tracks. Nathan was absolutely right in regards to that little detail. Aside from direct answers to the questions he had desperately asked, he didn¡¯t recall the medium channeling Claire say anything else that Claire would¡¯ve normally said to him.


    On the other hand, though, the part of his mind still refusing to accept Nathan¡¯s words as the truth kept insisting against this particular thought in a violently confusing tug-of-war within his head ¨C insisting Nathan wasn¡¯t there with him to see it happen, so he had no way of knowing what he was talking about. That, and how easy it was for Nathan to say these empty words masquerading as concerned advice, since he couldn¡¯t possibly understand how he felt about any of this.


    No¡­ what was he thinking? How did his state of mind become this ungrateful towards his friend? No less one who genuinely cared for him and only wanted to help for his own good?


    Such an intense thought process formed over such a short time ¨C while he was in such a fragile mental state too ¨C was too much for Thomas¡¯ emotions to handle, and they all ended up breaking down at once. As did Thomas himself, who buried his face in both his hands and burst into tears.


    Immediately Thomas felt Nathan¡¯s arms around him and heard his voice gently speak, ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I upset you, I really am. I more than understand you got so much on your mind that you can¡¯t get off. But that¡¯s why I¡¯m here ¨C as your friend, please let me help you. You can¡¯t do this alone, and you don¡¯t have to either.¡±


    After he¡¯d cried his eyes dry over more of Nathan¡¯s soothing words offering help, Thomas was able to eventually calm down. Between a few sniffles, he said, ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize, Nathan. I wasn¡¯t upset at you or what you told me¡­¡±


    Despite this, Nathan deeply heaved a guilty sigh and spoke in an equally guilty tone, ¡°All I wanted to do was just break the truth to you¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like you said a moment ago, you only wanted to help.¡± Thomas mumbled reassuringly.


    Nathan could only bring himself to nod at that. Then after a brief silence between them, spoke up again, ¡°Speaking of which, I actually have plans for going on a light hike tomorrow ¨C how would you feel about tagging along?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Thomas asked in confusion towards this seemingly out-of-the-blue subject, to which Nathan explained, ¡°I just thought, well, a little bit of recreational activity with other people might do at least some sort of good¡­ you know, refresh the mind and other things.¡±


    Truth be told, even after Nathan had helped him gain his composure, Thomas¡¯ mind was still in way too big of a mess. A mess he doubted a bit of walking and fresh air could do anything about. And also, like when he¡¯d first returned home, he was still unable to escape the notion that whatever his family or friends did for him, it didn¡¯t change the fact that Claire was never coming back into his life. But Thomas also didn¡¯t want to refuse Nathan¡¯s sincere offer to help him further, especially after the scene he¡¯d caused with his crying, as well as the guilt he¡¯d seen it inflict on Nathan.


    So Thomas nodded in agreement, though it was actually an empty gesture more than anything, and replied flatly, ¡°Sure, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Nathan sighed again, this time one of relief. ¡°Alright,¡± He said, before asking, ¡°I¡¯ll pick you up at noon tomorrow, does that sound good?¡± to which Thomas nodded a second time.


    After that conversation, between the heavy atmosphere courtesy of Nathan inadvertently causing Thomas to break down, and neither of them feeling like doing much at the moment, it seemed like the visit was to be cut short. So Nathan simply bid Thomas a good day and headed home. This left Thomas to do nothing else except look forward to the following day. At least it was better than allowing himself to get lost in the sea of his own melancholy like before.


    ***


    As promised, Nathan showed up in his car before Thomas¡¯ house at around midday. Once Thomas hopped into the passenger seat, off they went on an approximately hour-long drive, during which Nathan tried to spark a few conversations with his friend to pass the time.


    Knowing very well what kind of things were on Thomas¡¯ mind even now, Nathan did his best to bring up topics as far apart from those things as possible. Such topics included what had been up at work in Thomas¡¯ absence, or the particular part of the local woods they were going to for their hike.


    Likewise, Thomas did his best to engage in these conversations as casually as Nathan was bringing them up. But in his current state of mind ¨C which had remained unchanged in spite of his friend¡¯s visit yesterday ¨C most of his words kept ended up sounding more like empty, automated responses.


    Needless to say, this didn¡¯t take long to bring the mood down again like yesterday. Eventually the last thirty minutes or so of the ride were instead spent on the two of them just listening to music on the car radio in awkward silence. Which was why they were all the more relieved when the car¡¯s navigation system finally announced their arrival to the destination and Nathan quickly spotted an empty space in the parking lot near the woods.


    What was more, the atmosphere from when they were in the car seemed to somewhat lift again once they first began to enter the forest, alongside several other hikers going in the same direction. Sure, they still didn¡¯t talk much if at all, but there was no real need for them to either, what with all the surrounding sights and sounds of nature providing their minds further, and much-needed, relief.


    Or at least, they did for Nathan in the same way they did for everyone else. For Thomas, they acted as more of a distraction keeping his brain from conjuring up any more thoughts about what was bringing him down. Having all his attention drawn to the environment he and Nathan were walking through was doing a surprisingly good job at giving his mind no time to ponder over anything else ¨C from listening to the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves, to looking at how nicely the trees and flowers complimented the scenery around them. He even took a second or two to curiously gawk in the distance at a dark, jagged cave opening in an equally jagged cliff of gray rock.


    Sometime later, Thomas and Nathan stopped for a bit to rest. Extracting a water bottle from the side of his backpack, Nathan asked, ¡°You tired yet?¡±


    Thomas shook his head. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be good for another half hour.¡± He replied, and Nathan was glad to see that for once, Thomas¡¯ tone of voice didn¡¯t sound as hollow as it had on the way here. Maybe this really was being of some good to Thomas, a notion which brought Nathan a different kind of relief ¨C that this could be the start of his friend finally finding the right path for himself after being lost so badly in grief all this time.


    Nathan also would¡¯ve liked for this notion to last throughout the rest of the day, but unfortunately it didn¡¯t. Because only after a few minutes, they reached a particular spot that immediately caught their ¨C as well as all the other hikers¡¯ ¨C attention and made them stop. It was here they also unexpectedly came across a sight that not only made the negative emotions Thomas had successfully distracted himself from return, but with a vengeance as well.


    The spot they''d stopped at was the fenced top of a cliff overlooking a beautiful river view. And with any natural views this good-looking, there came people taking pictures in front of them, which was what everyone else had also stopped for. This wouldn¡¯t have been a problem for Thomas at all, let alone anyone, in and of itself¡­ had the people standing before the scenery not included a few joyous couples taking selfies full of their side-by-side, bright happy smiles.


    The same kind of smiles Thomas used to exchange with Claire so many times before. The same kind of smiles Thomas would¡¯ve been exchanging with Claire if she was still here.


    Thomas heart didn¡¯t just break again at this, he thought he could feel the shattered fragments of it pierce every inch of his insides like glass shards. Just when it seemed as if he¡¯d escaped his torment even for just a moment, it had to be rubbed into his face in a cruel twist of fate.


    While this was going on in Thomas¡¯ head, in reality Nathan had also been mesmerized just as much by the view as the other hikers (he¡¯d also completely missed the sight of the couples), prompting him to also take a few pictures. It wasn¡¯t until he turned to Thomas to ask if he¡¯d like his picture taken too when Nathan saw his friend was suddenly looking similar to how he¡¯d been yesterday. Except now he also had streams of silent tears pouring down his cheeks from his nearly unfocused eyes.


    His fascination quickly turning to fearful worry at this abrupt shift for the worse, Nathan¡¯s face fell as he asked, ¡°Thomas, are you- what happened?¡± before running over to him. Thomas, however, just turned his back on Nathan and hurriedly stumbled back down the way they came. He¡¯d already caused enough distress for Nathan¡¯s mind when he acted all unhinged and broke down before him yesterday, he wasn¡¯t about to cause an even bigger scene than that by doing the same out in public.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Intending to find a place where he could cry his emotions out without disturbing anyone and then return to Nathan with an explanation, Thomas neither stopped nor slowed down his descent along the hiking path. But with his vision half-blurred with tears and his emotions in utter disarray, he could only go so far before his feet buckled from stepping on an uneven spot of the ground he was unable to see coming. The next thing Thomas knew, he heard a few gasps and startled shouts from passersby as he fell off the path and down a slope. His body couldn¡¯t stop tumbling over dirt, twigs, and small rocks in a painful series of rolling over and over, until his backside slamming into a large tree truck finally did the trick.


    By the time he had halted ¨C though the distance he¡¯d fallen hadn¡¯t been a long one ¨C Thomas was aching from head to toe. While nowhere near as bad as what he¡¯d felt in his car crash, the throbbing pain still kept him lying on the spot groaning and with his eyes clenched shut for a minute or so.


    However, all of this was instantly driven out of Thomas¡¯ mind the moment he could bring himself to open his eyes after the pain had subsided. Because what Thomas saw through all the branches and leaves above him wasn¡¯t the bright blue early afternoon sky, but a night-like darkness.


    This perplexed Thomas beyond words. If he¡¯d been knocked out from rolling and smashing into a tree, he was certain he would have at the very least felt himself waking up or something. Yet he distinctly remembered being fully conscious throughout his falling, so how was it possible for him to see day one second and then night in the blink of an eye? And now that his senses were coming back properly, Thomas was able to notice another weird thing about the darkness ¨C the pitch-black sky hanging over the trees neither looked nor felt like any night sky he had ever seen in his life. If anything, it gave off more the sensation that he was a tiny humanoid figurine placed in the middle of a miniature model forest which somebody had draped a thick black cloth over. Somehow, this awareness of just how strangely unnatural the sky came across ¨C coupled with the almost suffocating darkness itself ¨C sent icy-cold shivers up Thomas¡¯ spine.


    But this was just the beginning. When Thomas staggered back up to his feet, he¡¯d expected to hear the typical rustle of twigs and dead leaves beneath him. Instead, his ears picked up an almost muted version of those sounds, like he was wearing a pair of the best noise-cancelling Airpods in the world. What was stranger was that Thomas could hear his own voice perfectly fine as he muttered out loud, ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± and then tried calling out to Nathan, or just about anyone else who had been around when he¡¯d fallen.


    And that was when yet another anomaly was noticed; aside from his own voice and muted footsteps, Thomas couldn¡¯t hear anything else. Not so much as a single bird could be heard chirping in any of the surrounding trees, whereas the sound had been pretty much everywhere before Thomas fell. Above all, even if Thomas had fallen much further from the path than he thought he did, surely he would still be able to hear the voices of the other hikers in the distance ¨C especially after they just saw someone roll down a slope.


    ¡°What is going on¡­¡± Thomas muttered again. He stared up in the direction he¡¯d rolled down from and proceeded to make his way back up to the hiking path. He couldn''t even be bothered to get all the dirt and tiny stray twigs off his clothes in his unsettled state of mind. Fortunately, the slope wasn¡¯t steep enough to make the task impossible.


    But even before he¡¯d reached the path and got fully back onto it, Thomas¡¯s confusion and dread intensified. The path was completely empty of people. No matter where Thomas looked or how many times he shouted out to his friend, there was no denying it.


    Thomas was alone in the dark.


    ¡°Where has everyone gone?¡± Thomas spoke out loud in a scared voice. It was the only thing he could think of doing to stop his ever-rising terror from making him go crazy. He couldn¡¯t even bring himself to move in any direction out of fear of what sights he might be greeted with. Had the world been covered in darkness and for some reason evaporated everyone off its surface except him? Or was this like a The Langoliers situation where he was the one who¡¯d somehow found himself in an unsettlingly barren and static dimension? Either way, this was all infinitely more than he could handle.


    However, the last straw that finally collapsed the camel¡¯s back ¨C or in this case, Thomas¡¯ legs ¨C came when Thomas suddenly heard a disembodied voice croak weakly from somewhere in front of him, ¡°Thomas¡­? Sweetie, is that you¡­?¡±


    With his knees on the floor, his chest rapidly rising and falling from scared hyperventilation, and his heart having leapt into his throat, Thomas froze still where he kneeled as his shocked face could do nothing but stare blankly into wherever the source of the voice was.


    Claire¡¯s voice.


    So many questions as to how any of this was possible flooded Thomas¡¯ mind so rapidly, he thought it might burst. While he might¡¯ve heard Claire supposedly talk to him through that medium he had visited, this was not the same as that ¨C not even close, obviously what with all the abnormalities of his current surroundings. On top of that, the voice he heard was undisputably Claire¡¯s, not someone else saying what she would say. Thomas could recognize a voice like Claire¡¯s even from a mile away¡­ even after he thought he¡¯d never hear it again in his life.


    ¡±Oh my, it is you¡­!¡± Claire¡¯s voice exclaimed, this time with a bit more strength. ¡°What are you doing out here, and why are your clothes such a mess?¡±


    Thomas would¡¯ve said something, anything, in response to whatever the hell was going on, but his voice went still along with the rest of his body. His eyes then turned glassy and unfocused in the same manner as a student listening to a boring lecture.


    Maybe it was his insanely grief-filled regret and desire built up over all this time ¨C not helped by the visit to the medium who channeled Claire ¨C making him crave for another chance to speak with his love. Or maybe it was some unexplainable thing about the voice, Thomas had no idea at the time. But the moment that voice spoke to him again, it was like something within his head had been triggered. Something that made Thomas slowly stand up and respond to the voice, ¡°I¡­ fell off the trail by accident¡­ but I¡¯m alright¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re alright?¡± Said Claire¡¯s voice, and Thomas noticed it seemed to be slowly getting further away from him for some reason.


    As if his legs were on autopilot, Thomas immediately followed it in the direction he could hear it moving, after which the voice seemed to grow closer again, ¡°¡­Because that¡¯s quite a slope beside the trail over there, if that¡¯s where you fell¡­¡±


    Still following the voice, Thomas remained silent for a couple of seconds. Then he felt his eyes stream with tears again as he said in an even more trembling voice than before, ¡°I¡¯m more than alright now that I can hear you for myself again¡­ after all this time thinking I¡¯d never be able to¡­¡±


    At this, the voice¡¯s tone changed to a much more sorrowful one, replying, ¡°Aw, you must¡¯ve missed me so badly for so long¡­ I¡¯m so sorry honey¡­¡±


    Now sobbing like mad as he kept walking, Thomas sniffled, ¡°No, Claire¡­ I¡¯m the one who¡¯s sorry for everything that¡¯s happened¡­ maybe if I¡¯d proposed to you before we left the theater we could¡¯ve bought us some time to avoid that drunk driver¡­ maybe if I¡¯d noticed you weren¡¯t wearing your seatbelt much earlier, then you wouldn¡¯t have¡­ left me¡­¡±


    He couldn¡¯t bring himself to finish that sentence properly. But Claire¡¯s voice seemed to understand, speaking now in a soothing tone of comfort, ¡°Thomas please, you¡¯ve been through so much already, don¡¯t bring yourself down like this over something that¡¯s not your fault¡­¡±


    While Thomas continued crying, Claire¡¯s voice added, ¡°There¡¯s nothing you could¡¯ve done about the drunk driver, it was something completely out of your control, let alone anyone else¡¯s.¡±


    This got Thomas¡¯ to eventually stifle his sobs even for just a bit as Claire¡¯s voice kept talking, ¡°If anything, I should be sorry for everything¡­ I¡¯m the one who forgot to wear my seatbelt in the first place. I should have known better¡­¡±


    This time it was the voice that was crying slightly, whereas Thomas was calmed down enough. ¡°I know I don¡¯t deserve to say this Thomas, but please forgive me and my carelessness for causing you all this misery¡­¡±


    It was already more than enough for Thomas¡¯ broken heart to hear Claire¡¯s voice this loud and clear once again, he didn¡¯t want to hear her cry on top of that. Doing his best to conjure up a reassuring voice amidst the occasional sniffles that still remained, Thomas said, ¡°Claire, it¡¯s like I said before¡­ getting to hear and talk with you again for myself is more than alright for me right now¡­ I don¡¯t care about anything else, this moment here is all I need¡­ all the things I wanted to tell you but couldn¡¯t, I can finally do it¡­¡±


    Claire¡¯s voice let out a somber but happy sob at that, paused for a second to sniff, and replied, ¡°Let it all out sweetie, I¡¯m here for anything.¡±


    By the time the conversation had reached this point, Thomas had gone down the hiking path far enough to come across a particular sight he recalled passing by with Nathan; the cave opening in a massive rock wall.


    Right now Claire¡¯s voice appeared to be trailing gradually towards the cave opening, which looked even darker in the shadowiness engulfing the world. If a black hole could exist on the surface of the earth, this would¡¯ve been it.


    But Thomas didn¡¯t seem to care about that either at the moment. All that he still paid his utmost attention to was the voice to whom he was now asking, ¡°I should have asked this earlier when I first mentioned it, but¡­ that night after our movie date¡­ would you have accepted my proposal¡­?¡±


    The voice uttered a soft chuckle of joy ¨C another thing Thomas could recognize from a mile away, and missed just as dearly as Claire herself ¨C and replied, ¡°I can¡¯t say enough in words how happy I am to know you¡¯d wanted to pop the question to me after our date¡­ because my answer to that is a thousand times yes¡­!¡±


    Thomas let out an unintelligible noise of half-regret, half-happiness. To think that for the longest time he¡¯d uselessly been so insecure over whether Claire would accept his proposal, when he had nothing to worry about at all, as proved by what he just heard.


    Taking a couple more steps closer to the voice ¨C and the cave ¨C Thomas said, ¡°I love you, Claire¡­¡± like never before, now that he¡¯d managed to get this crushing weight off his chest.


    The voice replied with the most heartfelt, ¡°I love you too, sweetie¡­ so, so much¡­¡± to which Thomas smiled the biggest smile he¡¯d ever worn in a long time¡­ before his face instantly fell a second later, and he stopped dead in his tracks in front of the cave.


    He had expected a ¡°Ditto¡± in response, like Claire always said with words such as this.


    What followed confused Thomas further, as when he addressed this to the voice, it said, ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    Thomas blinked a few times on the spot. His eyes came into focus again, and the moment they did, he appeared to just now become aware of his current surroundings. He looked around himself in pure shock, and tried to comprehend what he¡¯d been doing this whole time.


    Every bit of fear he¡¯d felt when he first realized his sudden abnormal circumstances came rushing back into every cell in his body. And surprisingly, despite being filled with utmost terror in less than a second, this also cleared his mind and helped him return to his senses. What had he been doing following a disembodied voice happening to sound like his dead love in the middle of a forest that was clearly not in a normal condition? Nothing about any of this screamed ¡®normal¡¯! What the hell had gotten into his head?


    Following this clarity, a memory was brought up into Thomas¡¯ mind as well ¨C the things Nathan had told him yesterday; ¡°Don¡¯t you know most if not all these so-called ¡®mediums¡¯ are pretty much phonies who get paid to tell people only what they want to hear as a surrogate for satisfaction?¡±, ¡°This guy you went to, when he was supposedly channeling Claire, do you recall anything he said? Did he ever mention anything outside of the limited information you gave him about her?¡±, and most of all, ¡°She¡¯s long gone, that¡¯s it! I¡¯m terribly sorry to put it that way, but it¡¯s just the truth. You can¡¯t afford to waste your life on what you can¡¯t do anything about anymore.¡±


    Thomas slowly began backing away from the cave in terrified steps. Whatever he¡¯d been following and speaking to so far, no matter how much it sounded like Claire, and no matter how much he wanted it to be Claire, couldn¡¯t possibly be her.


    Realizing this, the cave that the voice appeared to be coming from by now suddenly no longer seemed like just a hole in a rocky cliff, but some sort of deformed mouth of a predator, ready to swallow its prey whole now that it had half-succeeded at luring it in¡­ which fueled Thomas¡¯ fears even more.


    ¡°Honey, what is it?¡± The voice imitating Claire asked, and Thomas jumped just as much as his heart did into his throat again. That was when his instincts told him to do one thing, and one thing only.


    Run.


    Thomas wasted no time in turning his back on the cave and bolting as fast as he could back to and further down the hiking path, even as the voice kept calling out to him, ¡°Thomas, wait! Where are you going? Come back!¡±


    But Thomas ignored the voice the best he could and continued running. Much to his horror though, his ears couldn¡¯t stop hearing the voice no matter how far he ran ¨C if anything, the voice only got louder the further he got away from the cave, not to mention more desperate, ¡°Don¡¯t leave me, I¡¯m begging you! Please come back! COME BACK TO ME!¡±


    After running what felt like a full marathon course, Thomas eventually had to clasp his hands over both ears in an attempt to block out the voice, which was now sounding as if it was screaming from barely an inch behind his back, ¡°DON¡¯T LEAVE ME ALL ALONE LIKE THIS!!! DON¡¯T DO THIS TO ME!!! DON¡¯T NEGLECT ME LIKE YOU NEGLECTED MY SEATBELT!!! JUST TURN AROUND AND LOOK AT ME PLEASE!!!!!¡±


    The voice sounded completely insane, and Thomas thought he might go insane himself if this didn¡¯t stop soon. It was so intense, he was even tempted at one point to turn around like the voice begged him to if it meant putting an end to this madness already. But both his instincts and freshly returned common sense kept pushing him to run forth and, most of all, never look back.


    Just then, just when the voice sounded like it would make Thomas go deaf with how ear-splittingly loud it had become, just when Thomas thought this was the end, his persistence prevailed. For a brief moment his eyes were met with a blinding flash of white, and his feet tripped over what felt like a tree root, sending him crashing to the ground a second time.


    When Thomas came to, his ears were no longer ringing with the disembodied voice bellowing at him to turn around and come back to it. Instead, it was filled with the sounds of birds chirping, leaves rustling, and a whole crowd of people standing around him either calling, ¡°Mister, are you alright? Can you hear us?¡± or muttering, ¡°Where did he even come from? I didn¡¯t see him anywhere around here, did you see him coming this way?¡±


    Thomas could tell there was a crowd around him, because he saw it for himself as his vision gradually came into focus from where he lay. What was more, the sky he could see above him and everyone else was the same bright blue color of early afternoon.


    Almost immediately after taking all of this in, Thomas couldn¡¯t hold back a fit of quivering laughter. He didn''t give a damn about the others staring at him weirdly for it or calling for help on their phones.


    On one hand, he had to laugh out of relief at the fact that he¡¯d somehow made it out alive. Words couldn¡¯t describe how grateful and relieved he was to be lying down on the ground under a normal sky, surrounded by normal sounds, in a normal world, where he could look forward to living again.


    On the other hand, he couldn¡¯t help but quiver out of terror at whatever he¡¯d escaped with his life from. He hoped he¡¯d never have to run into this unexplainable, harrowing phenomenon again for as long as he lived. Especially considering the implications of what would have become of him if he hadn¡¯t made it out of whatever nightmarish dimension he¡¯d been in¡­ as further suggested by the last thing he¡¯d heard the voice say ¨C still in an exact imitation of Claire ¨C right before he returned to reality¡­


    ¡°Damn¡­ I almost had him.¡±

 Where It Ends

    Knowing Malcolm, Annabelle half expected him to go on again about how he felt about being told a scary story taking place in a dark forest while they themselves were stranded in a dark forest. But perhaps by now Malcolm had learned to read the room before making any attempts at cynically humorous remarks. Because instead he said, ¡°Another happy-ended palate-cleanser after how your last story ended, nice.¡± Which was somewhere along the lines of what Annabelle had been hoping he¡¯d say, as opposed to what she¡¯d expected to come out of his mouth.


    And of course, the other two in the front seats also didn¡¯t draw attention to this, instead commenting on what they each thought about the story they were just told. Henrik went first, ¡°Nice story indeed. Though I must say, I couldn¡¯t help but notice there were quite a few parallels between this one and the last one¡­ just saying.¡±


    ¡°I thought you might say that, because I too kinda knew this back when I was first fleshing out the idea.¡± Annabelle replied. ¡°Main character with love-related issues being terrorized by a malicious entity imitating their loved one, isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    Annabelle thought she could make out Henrik nod, to which she spoke again, ¡°Mind you, I still did my best to give the two enough variety-¡°


    ¡°We never said you didn¡¯t.¡± Malcolm piped up. ¡°In fact, if you got any plans to write these stories down somewhere after we¡¯re out of here, I think you definitely should. Because I can see these last two ones working well as two contrasting companion pieces on a similar idea.¡±


    ¡°Oops, there he goes again¡­¡± Annabelle thought to herself upon hearing Malcolm briefly mention something about them getting out of their current predicament. However, she said nothing to bring it up. Neither did Henrik and Luna as Malcolm finished, ¡°Not only that, they¡¯d just make really good reads in general, like everything else we¡¯ve seen from you.¡±


    Annabelle muttered a flattered, ¡°Thanks.¡± At that. In truth, Malcolm was kind of right, as these stories were all ideas she just hadn¡¯t committed to paper (or keyboard) yet, after all. So she figured they would indeed be better off written down in some form ¨C who knew, maybe they could come in handy for any future assignments she could be doing during her second semester.


    ¡°So what was the inspiration behind this story?¡± Luna asked, breaking off Annabelle¡¯s thinking. ¡°Something similar to the last one, or a completely different source?¡±


    ¡°The latter.¡± Annabelle replied. ¡°Not too long before I got this idea, I¡¯ve been reading Stephen King¡¯s Pet Sematary. That¡¯s gotta be the scariest freaking Stephen King story I¡¯ve ever read so far, largely thanks to the subject matter.¡±


    Malcolm asked, ¡°Lemme guess, death?¡± to which Annabelle nodded and continued, ¡°That, and how destructive being unable to let go of those we hold dear to us when death comes for them can be.¡±


    ¡°Deep stuff¡­¡± Malcolm mumbled under his breath, while Henrik said, ¡°You always did love reading that guy¡¯s work, huh? Hence the subtle It reference in that other story of yours.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Annabelle nodded, before adding, ¡°That¡¯s what I intended the part near the end to signify, where the protagonist runs forward and away from the disembodied voice without looking back. Because if there¡¯s anything I got out of what I said Pet Sematary is about, it¡¯s that death is like parts of a past you can do nothing about no matter how much it hurts, except to just let it go and carry on with what matters right now, rather than get hung up on and eventually consumed by it.¡±


    Annabelle heard Malcolm softly clap a few times next to her and say, ¡°Ay-men!¡± as if he¡¯d heard some kind of awesome inspiring speech. This more typical and less cynical attempt at humor from Malcolm would¡¯ve gotten a chuckle or two out of Annabelle. Then the mood for that was immediately thrown right out the window at Luna¡¯s following words.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t you think it¡¯s about time you do the same with us too, Annabelle?¡±


    Annabelle stared at the back of the front passenger seat in utter confusion. ¡°Do what with you lot?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Let us go no matter how much it hurts, just like you said.¡± Luna replied.


    ¡°What?¡± Annabelle was filled with more and more confusion by the second. ¡°Why would I-¡°


    But even before she had a chance to complete her sentence, Annabelle was abruptly interrupted by something flashing past her mind ¨C a sliver of a memory, one in which she very briefly but clearly saw herself just beginning to wake up from being knocked out by the car crashing.


    Except in this particular memory, the events that transpired weren¡¯t quite the same as how Annabelle had remembered them. Most notably, what had greeted her senses when she¡¯d come to and called out to her friends.


    ¡°Ringing a bell now, buddy?¡± Asked Henrik, and for some reason Annabelle couldn¡¯t make out his dark silhouette moving even an inch in the driver¡¯s seat this time. ¡°You woke up and tried calling out to the three of us, but none of us replied¡­¡±


    At this, another sliver of another memory flashed past Annabelle¡¯s mind, burning its mental image into her vision like the afterimage of a bright light in the eye; Annabelle saw herself slowly taking in her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the dark, before realizing the car had crashed down a slope and into a tree. What was more, all three of her friends were showing no signs of movement, unlike herself. She then nervously called out to them, expecting to get any kind of reply¡­ while also refusing to expect the worst-case scenario.


    ¡°¡­because none of us could reply.¡± Malcolm added. ¡°And you couldn¡¯t bring yourself to accept that.¡±


    The hyperventilation started coming back as Annabelle listened to Malcolm¡¯s words. He too appeared to have gone completely still along with Henrik, and presumably Luna as well. Beads of sweat formed and fell down the sides of Annabelle¡¯s head, as did tears from her eyes.


    And then Annabelle saw a whole storm of mental images flash before her mind¡¯s eyes ¨C images of her screaming and gasping for breath in terror at the revelation that she looked to be the only one in the car still moving. Images of her calling for help on her phone before its battery died. Images of her having the biggest panic attack in years, before she began telling tales that only fell on deaf ears. All of these pieces gathered one by one to form a big picture; a memory that had been subdued this whole time somewhere within Annabelle¡¯s head from the trauma of both the accident¡­


    ¡­and knowing that it had left her as the only living person in the wreckage.


    Barely able to form coherent words amidst her rapid terrified panting, Annabelle wheezed in sheer denial, ¡°Guys¡­ guys, if this is your idea of some sick joke to keep our minds off things, you¡¯d better stop!¡± She slowly reached out with a trembling arm to where she thought Malcolm was sitting, continuing her refusal to accept what her previously subdued memory had recalled to her upon its resurfacing, ¡°You hear me?! Stop this right now and answer me, damn it!¡±


    No answer. As far as Annabelle could see in the darkness, the silhouettes of all her three friends were still and silent as everything else in the surrounding forest.


    ¡°Guys, please¡­¡± Annabelle begged for any sign of life from any of her unmoving friends to give her an answer, ¡°I can¡¯t take it anymore¡­ please tell me this is just some cruel prank¡­¡±


    And that was when she felt the hand she¡¯d been reaching out towards Malcolm hit something. This was immediately followed by the familiar clack of plastic on metal, as well as the sound of a long, flexible something being pulled back.


    Annabelle felt like her heart missed a beat. Her ears unmistakably recognized the noises as those of a seatbelt coming undone. Not only that, but yet another memory came back to her in relation to the sounds; how Malcolm, Henrik, and Luna had said they were all unable to unbuckle their seatbelts because they seemed to be broken.


    On top of that, when Annabelle felt around the front of Malcolm¡¯s unmoving body afterwards, she sensed his shirt was completely wet. Was it damp with water or something?


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Feels a bit too strange to be water, Annabelle thought, and she pulled her hand back to inspect it. As soon as she did so and brought her hand closer to her face, she smelled a faint iron-like scent coming from it that hadn¡¯t been there before. Additionally, despite the lack of proper light, Annabelle was able to see that her hand somehow looked significantly darker. Even more, there was not only a wet sensation on her palm and fingers from whatever they were stained with, but also a slightly sticky one.


    That was when Annabelle realized what exactly it was that both Malcolm¡¯s front and her hand were soaked in; his blood.


    Pure, unadulterated horror like she¡¯d never known before erupted from within Annabelle, to the point she thought she might explode into pieces on the spot. No, forget ¡®might¡¯, she wished she could indeed just explode right there and then, if it meant she wouldn¡¯t have to be left all alone in the darkness of both the forest and this living nightmare. She wished everything about her could just come to a quick end, if it meant she wouldn¡¯t have to crumble and crack so vulnerably under the unbearable weight of this ungodly, terrible truth.


    And as soon as this had registered with her, Annabelle really did feel like everything about her came to an end when every inch of her body was drained of all strength, and her vision faded to black.


    ***


    ¡°¡­hello¡­! Miss¡­ can you hear us¡­?!¡±


    ¡°There¡­ she¡¯s coming to¡­!¡±


    ¡°¡­are there any other survivors besides her¡­?¡±


    Seemingly distant voices somewhere in the pitch blackness Annabelle found herself in immediately came into focus, loud and clear. At the same time, her sight was suddenly flooded with a bright light.


    Disoriented and groggy, Annabelle could do nothing but furrow her brow at the light shining directly into her eyes and face. Then the light was removed, and for once Annabelle was able to actually see something before her ¨C first there was the smashed interior of the car she was stuck in, now brightly illuminated by many other beams of light coming from the outside. Then there was a latex glove-wearing hand holding a small flashlight, which had been the source of the light in her face. As it turned out, this hand belonged to a person who was gently turning Annabelle¡¯s head around to face him, speaking in determined reassurance, ¡°Hang in there miss, we¡¯ll get you out of here in no time.¡± Before calling to someone over his shoulder for a stretcher and some sort of tools.


    Despite her grogginess, it didn¡¯t take long for Annabelle to figure out what all of this meant; help had finally arrived for her and her friends.


    Yes, she remembered the things that had happened before she¡¯d supposedly blacked out. But surely none of that could have been real. It had to be some really messed-up nightmare her brain had subconsciously cooked up in the nerve-wracked state of mind the accident had left her in¡­ right?


    Right¡­?


    It was then Annabelle looked over at where Malcolm was and saw him sitting motionless in his seat like what she vaguely remembered before blacking out. Except this time, with the car¡¯s insides being fully lit by the emergency service workers surrounding the site, Annabelle had a proper visual of what had become of Malcolm ¨C his head was seen limply sticking out of the shattered window frame of the car door next to him. Annabelle could just make out what appeared to be a big, jagged piece of glass still remaining in that window frame¡­ onto which the left side of Malcolm¡¯s neck had been deeply pierced in the impact of the crash. It was from this pierced neck that great gushes of blood had apparently come from to soak the whole front of Malcolm¡¯s shirt.


    The shirt Annabelle now remembered herself touching as she stared horrified at the still bloodied hand she¡¯d done so with.


    Breaking her eyes away from this ghastly sight, Annabelle lifted her gaze to look at Henrik in the driver¡¯s seat. He too was as still and silent as Malcolm in a slouched pose over the steering wheel¡­ the upper part of which had been smashed straight into his mouth and ripped his jaw wide open in a grotesque, bloody mess.


    Eyes wide open and hyperventilating yet again, Annabelle barely paid attention to whatever the paramedic standing next to the car spoke to her upon noticing her behavior. Instead, she tried to avert her eyes from Malcolm and Henrik¡¯s horribly mutilated corpses and focus on anything else but them. But as her luck would have it, the first thing her vision happened to land on right after that was the sight of a couple more paramedics pulling Luna¡¯s body ¨C her bloodied, lifeless body ¨C out of the front passenger seat to place it on a stretcher, where they covered it up with a white sheet.


    This was it. Annabelle wished to no longer see or feel anything, to just fade away on the spot and be put out of the hell she¡¯d found herself in. The pain of however many parts of her body she may have injured in the crash couldn¡¯t be felt anymore over the tidal waves of agony crashing against and eating away at her heart.


    The tears returned. Her terrified hyperventilation turned to blood-curdling screams. Her brain knew nothing else other than these two, unable to even bother noticing the paramedic calling to a few others about something.


    Not too long after this, there was the sensation of a bunch of hands getting ahold of a still screaming Annabelle¡¯s right arm, a single sharp prick, and then Annabelle was engulfed in darkness once more.


    ***


    Annabelle lay motionless in the white hospital bed sheets, staring blankly up at the ceiling of the hospital ward she¡¯d been admitted to for some time now.


    After being carried out of the wreckage she''d miraculously survived, as well as a full day of being tended to with the utmost care by the hospital¡¯s staff, plus another day of recovery, and she¡¯d gotten just well enough to properly greet her extremely worried yet relieved parents in bed.


    According to them, they¡¯d rushed to the hospital as soon as they heard the news, and had practically spent a whole night here until the doctors told them they could see their daughter. And the second the three of them had finally reunited, what unfolded had been a pandemonium of emotions, during which both sides were grateful beyond anything words could express that they were able to see each other again. Not only that, but Mr and Mrs Deckard had also taken the time to express their most sincere condolences to Annabelle for the loss of her friends. This had resulted in several more fits of crying from her, as well as her parents at the sight of seeing their daughter so devastated.


    Once all this had eventually passed and everyone was recovered from their half-relieved, half-sorrowful outbursts, one of the doctors called Mr and Mrs Deckard out into the hall for a minute to give them an explanation of their diagnosis on Annabelle¡¯s condition.


    This was the moment in which Annabelle laid down in her bed and did absolutely nothing but lock her gaping eyes onto the ceiling. All while the doctor¡¯s almost inaudibly muffled voice quietly carried itself into the ward through its ever so slightly ajar door. However, Annabelle had the feeling she didn¡¯t need to eavesdrop on the conversation between the doctor and her parents to get the gist of what was wrong with her.


    Back in the forest, when she¡¯d come to and realized all of her friends had died, the immeasurable shock this revelation undoubtedly had on her, coupled with the even more devastating trauma of the car crash, had done a number of things to her psyche. With her mind unable to withstand such massive mental blows to it in such a short amount of time, not only had it made her forget about ever seeing her friends dead in their seats, but it had also done something it hadn¡¯t done in several years since her mentally unstable ¡°darker days¡± ¨C it had made her see and hear things again.


    Except this time, rather than the hallucinations being unspeakable horrors she wished she could unsee, they¡¯d been still-living versions of Henrik, Luna, and Malcolm ¨C more specifically, hallucinatory representations of how she perceived each of them from all the time they¡¯ve been friends. That, as well as her own thoughts that had passed through her mind at the time. Almost everything Annabelle had thought her friends had said had been nothing more than what her mind envisioned they would¡¯ve said if she really was talking with them. Or rather, what her mind had hoped they would¡¯ve said in its state of thinking she really was talking with them.


    Their personal thoughts on all the stories Annabelle had told them had just been her imagining them saying such things, based on her previous experience of receiving feedback from them about her class assignments. Similarly, them saying their seatbelts were all broken, as well as their phones being smashed or lost in the accident had been her mind unknowingly making up excuses as to why they couldn¡¯t move or call for help on their own phones.


    This would also explain the occasional subtle anomalies Annabelle had noticed but never paid much mind to during her ¡°conversations¡± with her ¡°friends¡± ¨C Luna¡¯s knowledge of a college class subject Annabelle had never told her about before, Henrik referring to a movie only Annabelle had seen only to not answer her question on whether he too had watched it, and Malcolm saying something that uncannily aligned all too well with Annabelle¡¯s mindset from her darker days (which, lest she forget, none of them had any way of knowing about); ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing from the fictional story we were just told any scarier than our current reality.¡± Those had most likely been some of Annabelle¡¯s memories or fragments of her other thoughts having made their way into her hallucinations.


    Maybe that was why her hallucinatory friends had suggested she told them stories to ease their nervous minds while waiting for help to arrive in the first place. Because similar to what she used to do during her darker days as a coping mechanism for her pain, her traumatized mind had subconsciously decided it would sooner escape to and indulge in an imaginary plane of existence with the undead, violent sentient trees, man-eating lakes, and disembodied voices in the dark, rather than force onto itself the torturous agony of facing something infinitely scarier than all the previously mentioned things combined ¨C the truth.


    The same could quite possibly be said for the hallucinations themselves; her mind had likely also determined without her knowledge that it would much rather make itself think that Henrik, Luna, and Malcolm were alive with her. Because it refused to accept the truth that she was the accident¡¯s sole survivor.


    But like with any dream or fantasy, waking up from it had been inevitable. And like so many times during her darker days, Annabelle had gone out of her way to wake herself up from the visions of her friends too ¨C except this time, inadvertently. The parallels between what was actually happening to her and her own fictional story about someone being unable to let go of a loved one who¡¯d died in a car accident had ¨C again, subliminally ¨C ended up acting as a reminder of sorts, reawakening her subdued memory and snapping her out of it.


    Out of a dream¡­ and into a nightmare where there was no waking up from.


    A nightmare called reality.