《The GrayBird tales》 Welcome to GrayBird town: Five minutes before six in the morning. That was what the clock indicated. Charles laid his eyes back on his lazily gripped newspaper. An article caught his heed for more than five seconds, which was four seconds longer than his average attention span: ~Seven teenager¡¯s lifeless bodies were discovered early this morning by one of the forest rangers. ~ ¡°All the lunatics come out to play¡­ On full moon nights,¡± That was his first thought upon reading that title. In a town such as GrayBird, one knows better than to disregard the lunar phases, a natural event, innocuous to the rest of humanity or at least to its large majority. In GrayBird town, one has better learn fast and never forget, for he has much to lose otherwise. Charles slackly uncrossed his legs, then lifted them off the worn out table that served him as a desk. He walked the great distance of six steps to reach the door of the dilapidated loge that served as a makeshift guard¡¯s office. New day, new shift for him. Five years doing that job, yet he could never manage to shake that sensation of dread that creeped in on his nerves at the beginning of each work day. He sure owned the face of someone that had long since forfeited their desire to live. There wasn¡¯t an apparent part of him that looked well taken care of, not his clothes, not his hair, not his beard¡­ But the worst in the sight of him, was the empty look in his eyes. He ambled towards his work station in his usual unexisting enthusiasm. ¡°Leonard,¡± he greeted his colleague with the warmth of a prison door. ¡°Charles,¡± he was greeted back with the same lack of energy. Leonard stood off that frayed wooden chair he was resting on. That was it for them, that was how their interactions went until, ¡°Good luck kid,¡± Leonard uttered before the distance between them grew too long. Charles didn¡¯t say anything, there was nothing to say when the best of luck one could have in their line of work was, for nothing to happen during one¡¯s shift. Leonard seemed to be on the older side to Charles, although he appeared to share the same rundown looks of his younger colleague. As soon as Charles had laid his weight on that little chair that¡­ Frankly seemed to be holding on to dear life, an old and frail looking lady arrived by his side, ¡°Morning Charles my dear, I brought your favorite today,¡± ¡°Thank you, Mrs. Dale,¡± he mustered after he¡¯d finally noticed her. He accepted the cute basket she¡¯d so generously offered him and put it on the floor next to his leg. ¡°It¡¯s a heavy looking day, isn¡¯t it?¡± she said as she peered at the morning sky. ¡°Let¡¯s hope not Mrs. Dale,¡± was all he could say. People in town were nice to Charles and took care of him whenever they could, in every which way they could. They felt as though they owed him that, for everyday of his life he spent working a job that nobody else wanted, that everyone else fled like the plague. In every other place on god¡¯s earth, there were these jobs that a lot of people feared taking on, whether for their high complexity levels or for the sheer weight of the responsibilities that came with the jobs alone. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Anyone competent or insane enough to dare volunteer for one, was regarded as a hero regardless of either reason; in GrayBird, that job was the guardian of town. A guardian¡¯s job normally consisted of surveilling a certain area of a precise perimeter, to keep unwanted individuals from wandering inside. Not in GrayBird; there, things were different. There was officially only one entrance to GrayBird, one way in and one way out. Charles and Leonard were in charge of keeping an eye out for it, for the lurkers. Charles spazzed in his chair when he felt the morning cold reach his bones, the temperature was way lower than that of the previous day at the same time. He looked around himself, almost like he¡¯d just noticed that Mrs. Dale had already left. He swayed his seat back and forth as he rubbed his hands together to fight the shivers. He could barely see his white foggy breath, the white fog surrounding him was very thick that morning. He decided it was time to pull the fabric napkin covering the basket off, for it to reveal a number of delicious looking chocolate muffins, neatly nested near each other inside. He wasn¡¯t hungry per say, he was just very bored. Good thing he decided to savor his first bite, because it turned out to be his last, on that day at least. He suddenly stopped the chewing process, his face gradually falling, further apart from his usual pitiable demeanor. He dropped what he was holding between his fingers, forcibly swallowed and slowly stood off his chair. There, in the middle of the road, right before the town¡¯s welcome sign, stood a blurry humanoid figure; it was moving, getting closer to him. ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered. His feet finally obeyed his commands. They moved forward, slowly at first but gradually gaining in speed, and Charles ran as fast as he could towards the figure. Then, just like he began running, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring intensely at the being barely standing in front of him, ¡±Hello¡­¡± he said, not very hopeful, ¡°Can you hear me?¡± he attempted again. Just as he thought, there was no hope to be had with her, the figure who turned out to be a woman, just kept on walking ahead with complete disregard to Charles¡¯ presence. She was bare feet, barely clothed for that weather and had deep lacerations all the way up her legs, but her eyes¡­ Her eyes were another story. If Charles thought he had the stare of the dead, what she had was on a whole different level. Although Charles had lost the enthusiasm he had on his first day on the job, he still held the same ritual as the first time he saw a lurker, he never learned to deal with their lifeless eyes, he was never able to react the way he was instructed to. He¡¯d hoped that¡­ Someday, upon saying hello to a lurker, they¡¯d say hi back or ask for help or¡­ Say anything for that matter. When he finally accepted the fact that the encounter was not going to be any different from others, he resorted to his instructions. He picked his walkie in order to reach the town¡¯s authorities, ¡±Lurker incoming,¡± was all he managed to say. He allowed his arm to fall back to his side. He kept on eying the woman who¡­ Kept on walking, completely ignoring the fact that Charles was standing right in her way, like there was nothing there so, he slowly removed himself from her path and¡­ She carried on like nothing had happened. Charles had to bear the sight of her moving carcasse for five minutes straight, he was used to feeling his days go by slowly but that felt like another kind of slow, five whole minutes until an ambulance and a cruiser joined him on site. He had to wait for hours to finally hear a bit of information about her. They reported back to him that, in the end she did speak, but only to utter one word, a name: Elena. She kept on saying it again and again, they thought it was her name, they thought that her name was all she could remember about her former self. Other than that, she had nothing on her, no ID, nothing to tie her back to the person she left behind before engaging on the road to GrayBird town. New day, new shift for him, five years doing that job, yet he could never manage to shake that sensation of dread that came with the encounter of a lurker. What are lurkers, one might ask? They are people, or at the very least they used to be, but they are no more. They say that GrayBird town never had many visitors, but nobody really lays out the "whys" and the "for whats" of it. There was only one way to GrayBird and one way out of it, and nobody ever knows what really happens on that cursed road. All of those that engage on that path, either never reach their destination or¡­ Become lurkers, barely alive creatures devoid of any sanity. Their memories erased, doomed to remain empty husks forever. They remain ¡°And so, it is said that for a week beginning from the first and ending on the fifth of this month, their souls would again roam the grounds, yearning to finish whatever they left unfinished on that unfortunate day,¡± Those were the only words I caught when I reached the classroom door. Upon opening it, I was greeted with surprised faces, almost as if I¡¯d brought them out of a mystifying mind trip. Whatever story the teacher was telling, it had the merit of capturing the attention of the entire class, one could hear a pin drop in that room. Speaking of the teacher, his eyes had also shifted towards me at my arrival. Mister Walsh wasted no time to give me one of his disapproving looks behind his glasses, he was famous around the school for those, ¡°Late to class, are we, Miss Langley?¡± ¡°Sorry¡­¡± I said sheepishly. Did my bag suddenly get heavier? Did Gravity instantly increase? Or was it just the sheer weight of the attention on my person at that moment? I scurried between two rows of desks to get to mine and sunk into my chair as deep as I could, as soon as I got close enough to do so. ¡°Right, let¡¯s move back to our usual curriculum then, shall we?¡± Mr. Walsh¡¯s statement eased my embarrassment. Up until then, I thought that class had already begun, apparently, I was wrong. He neared the board and wrote the day¡¯s lesson title. It didn¡¯t seem related to the story he was telling when I came in whatsoever. That tale somehow sabotaged everyone¡¯s spirit. As distant as I was with all my classmates, I still knew enough about them to notice that some were wearing foreign looks on their faces. I shifted awkwardly in my seat. The overall atmosphere wasn¡¯t pleasant for sure but, something else niggled at me, I felt an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch. So, I discreetly glanced around myself, all the students ahead of me were facing the teacher. To both my left and my right perhaps? Nobody was paying me any attention. All that was left, were those behind me. My gaze stopped when I spotted the gorgeous pair of hazel eyes that bored into mine. Evidently, A story was not all I had missed that morning, an introduction was also on that list. His stare was intense, but I managed to withstand it. The smile he wore was so genuine that I forgot to feel uncomfortable. I smiled back before turning forward again, then I smiled again only this time, it was to myself, when I realized I hadn¡¯t given such a sterling beam to anyone for quite long. That morning, like every other morning, the bell rang three times every hour, to signal the ending of a session. In the duration of those three hours, teachers switched classes, but in the course of those same hours, I felt the same pair of eyes fixated on me, following my every movement, burning holes in my back. Occasionally, I felt amounts of blood flee their usual course and rush up to my face, giving me a sense of extra warmth around the cheeks. When lunch time came, I stood up and practically ran towards our small school dining hall, making sure not to turn around¡­ Again. I thought I¡¯d exhausted the quota for that action in such a short period of time, that I feared giving desperate vibes off. Thing was, it really had been a while since fate put me in a similar position. I''d forgotten what the experience felt like, to be somebody¡¯s interest, to feel attractive in the eyes of someone. Maybe none of it was real though, maybe all of it was nothing but a figment of my imagination, because I liked that boy and I really wanted to believe that he did like me back. As I sat down to eat my food, I briefly scanned the hall for his figure, trying my best to seem natural in the process. He was nowhere to be seen. Of course, I found it odd at first but then I thought, he could have been one of those students who enjoyed solitude to savor their lunch and who was I to judge? I did my best to shove all of those thoughts and feelings into a closet in the back of my head, in order to focus on my extra-curricular activities for that afternoon. A clearly futile attempt, the fruit basket in front of me that I was supposed to reproduce on my canvas, was completely eclipsed by the image of his remarkable facial features. He wasn¡¯t even in that room at the time. Valentine was only a week away, the idea that it could be different for me that year escaped the closet. So much for not being desperate. ¡°Everything alright Miss Langley?¡± The arts guide asked me. Great! And so much for seeming natural, I guessed. The next day promised to be more or less the same as the previous, I saw to be right on time for class in the morning. I also saw that the boy was already in his seat, wearing the same smile to my regards and the same clothes as well.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I settled thinking, while wearing the same clothes two days in a row wasn¡¯t an issue at all, those however, were some quite unconventional clothes for a boy his age. Most boys at school, in fact most boys in my age bracket all around GrayBird town, sort of dressed in the same fashion. Perhaps it was the trending style of wherever it was that he came from. Once again, he was a no-show during lunch time at the dining hall, but I gave that the same excuse as I did the preceding day. It was on the third of February that things began to take a sour turn. The smile he was offering me was different. If I could describe it in one word, it would be ¡®tainted¡¯. Sure, it still seemed as genuine as before, that wasn¡¯t the problem, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as radiant as the one he gave me the very first time I saw his face. And suddenly, as if I finally looked at him under different lights, things that I hadn''t noticed before started to jump out to my eyes. The way he was sitting, it was straight, almost too straight. Never did he bend for a second, not by a fraction of an inch. Could it have been something he was accustomed to do? trained to do since very young? I personally couldn¡¯t consciously keep an upright stance for more than a minute, not even if my life depended on it. I did pick up on something else¡­ It was like, there was nobody in class but me to his eyes, never did he glance at anyone else. He made me think of a doll or a portrait painting following me with their eyes. The next day couldn¡¯t have come any slower and couldn¡¯t promise to go by any faster than the previous one. I charged through the classroom door towards my seat like a thunderbolt, stomping all urges to look in his direction. I didn¡¯t need to, I knew he was there, I felt him staring daggers into my back, only this time it didn¡¯t have the same effect on me. I didn¡¯t feel any warmth around my cheeks, I didn¡¯t have any butterflies in my stomach. Instead, a chill ran through my entire body, it froze me to the bone, I slowly wrapped my hands around my arms to fight the shiver. Around 10 o¡¯clock, our math teacher took more time than usual to get there. I had been debating since I had arrived that morning whether I should talk to him or not, at least get a name? let him know in a way that he wasn¡¯t as smooth as he may be thought he was? I finally plucked up the courage to push my butt off that uncomfortable chair and snapped around his way. As I walked closer to him however, my heart kept sinking further into my stomach. I was at last able to put a finger on what was wrong with his expression. Skin drier than the Atacama Desert, his traits seemed aggravated, but somehow not by anger, if it was even possible to describe it as such. But the worst were his eyes, I could¡¯ve sworn that they were of a beautiful and clear hazel tint, I could¡¯ve sworn they weren¡¯t as dull and faded as they looked at that instant. It was like staring into the eyes of a barely alive replica of the boy I saw three days before. ¡°Hey¡­ I am Alexa, Alexa Langley,¡± my eyes fell on his clothes as I spoke those words; I realized they were the same ones as those of the first and second day. Only, they looked¡­ dustier, as though he crawled through an underground tunnel type of dustier. The lack of any response from him made me raise my eyes back towards his face. There he sat, still as a gargoyle and stiff as a board, he just gaped at me with apparently no intention to respond. The next words I¡¯d planned to say, just died in my throat. I traveled back to my seat with a bigger mass in the pit of my stomach, deepening the feeling of sinking and dread. The first words uttered by Mr Walsh on the 5th day of that week were, ¡±Alright people! settle down. today we¡¯ll have a small test about the content of the week¡¯s lessons, I hope you all got ready for it,¡± True. By the end of every week, Mr Walsh made us take a test relevant to whatever we studied with him. It had completely escaped my mind. The matter with the new student took a lot more from me than I wanted to admit. The teacher walked between rows and handed each of us a sheet of paper. My eyes caught a glimpse of the first question. I was supposed to complete a paragraph from a certain story. It read as the following: ¡°On the first of February 1972, at exactly thirty five past seven in the morning, GrayBird town suffered a harrowing tragedy. A violent earthquake shook our grounds for fifteen seconds continuously. It ravaged almost everything in its path. It rendered once upright standing constructions into crumbling piles of rubble. The aftermath however, lasted much longer than that for the inhabitants. It left them digging through the ruins of their own dwellings for their belongings and worst of all, for their loved ones. At the GrayBird hospital, ¡­¡­... [ Fill in the blank please] ¡­¡­... Many facilities shared a similar fate, the local school up the hill was not spared. Those who had the misfortune of arriving early that day met a rather gruesome end. According to the official records, 12 people were on the third floor at the time, 17 on the second and 25 on the ground floor. The bodies of the twenty five souls trapped at the lowest level remained buried until the end of that week. Some of them were only dead for eight hours, which meant they had lived their last days in that pit of darkness, probably in utter despair. And so, it is said, that for a week beginning from the first and ending on the fifth of this month, their souls would again roam the grounds, yearning to finish whatever they left unfinished on that unfortunate day. ¡° I gulped as I read the last sentence, ¡°Today is the fifth of February,¡± I thought, ¡°This is the school up the hill,¡± I considered, ¡°I am on the ground floor,¡± I pondered, ¡°And this boy is¡­¡± Something within me just clicked, I simply knew without understanding. I could amount to nothing but wait for the end of the hour, to do what I should have done days ago, that thing that I was not very fond of doing. I leaped out of the chair as soon as I could, and dashed towards the student I¡¯d exchanged the largest number of words with since the beginning of the year, ¡±Alice, can I ask you a question?¡± ¡°Long time no talk. Sure, what is it?¡± she said. ¡°The new student there at the back, what¡¯s his name?¡± I asked. ¡°Wha¡­ We don¡¯t¡­ Have a new student¡­,¡± She looked at me confused and quite possibly concerned. My head reluctantly turned his way, his eyes still on me. Yeah¡­ Utter despair, that was truly the expression he was bearing. Taking my time to gaze at him, I noticed one last detail. His chest wasn¡¯t moving in the slightest. He never took a breath in, never let a breath out. He was dead¡­ Dead as a doorknob. Jack in the corner ¡°That¡¯s the story you want to hear tonight?¡± asked Harry, a bit taken aback by his friends¡¯ request. ¡°Well, nobody really likes to talk about it around here, not in detail at least,¡± said the girl seated on the ground beside Harry. ¡°I just assumed that most people in this town knew the tale. I never encountered anybody curious enough to ask questions¡­,¡± he said. ¡°We just want to know more, that¡¯s all, and why is everyone so afraid when anybody brings it up?¡± Another voice spoke. This time, it belonged to a young man sitting across from Harry. The group formed a circle around a fire, burning bright in their midst. They were seven in total, excluding Harry, that is. Each of their faces bore a feeble orange hue, courtesy of the sizzling flames that crackled soothingly nearby. ¡°In any case, you couldn¡¯t have picked a better night to ask¡­ About Jack in the corner,¡± Harry grinned cheerily and lifted his eyes towards the starry sky as he said that. The rest of them instinctively copied his action. They caught sight of the full moon peeking through the tall and thick forest trees surrounding them. It was the second source of light pushing the dense fabric of darkness away from engulfing them. They all wondered what made that night such a special one for that tale but, none of them dared ask. They just wanted him to get into it¡­ And so, he did. ¡°Nobody really knows who Jack is, or¡­ What Jack is. Nobody that has ever had the miserable luck of laying their eyes on him, survived long enough to tell the end of it. And so, people are ever so careful when they utter his name, for they don¡¯t know of the true consequences,¡± Harry marked a pause during which, he filtered through the seven visages staring back at him, all of them appeared to pay very close attention to his words, clearly craving more, so he gave them more, "First, it starts as nothing more than a shadow from a corner in your peripheral vision. You will be tempted to look but, once you do, you¡¯ll see¡­ Simply nothing. The next day however, you¡¯ll wake up to a small shape, standing in the corner of your room or wherever it was that you slept. It will be right where you can see it, right where you can¡¯t ignore it. Upon initial look, you won¡¯t be able to distinguish any facial features or any features att all for that matter. You will be left wondering if it¡¯s a child or an abnormally small man, if it¡¯s human or animal, whether it is going to move or not, and if it does, what will it do to you? And when the dust starts to settle in your mind, you¡¯ll begin to notice¡­ Mainly how its skin had both the color and texture that resembled that of uncooked bread dough,¡± ¡°What¡¯s the matter Carey?¡± a different young man from the previous one addressed his friend Carey, when he noticed that she¡¯d turned her head away from the group, looking straight into the obscurity around. ¡°Nothing, I just thought¡­ I saw somet¡­ Nevermind,¡± she replied before setting her attention back onto Harry. Harry didn¡¯t skip a beat and proceeded right from where he stopped, "Next thing that jumps to your eyes will be the hair. The small, almost non existent amount of it you¡¯ll see, will seem disgustingly oily and unevenly scattered across its skull. You will automatically look down towards its arms after that. Short, skinny and dry as dead wooden sticks, and its hands¡­ Although extremely boney, still overly large compared to the size of the arms supposed to support them,¡± Harry went dead quiet after those words. He slowly looked down at his feet and remained in that position, seemingly concerned with something. Until somebody called for his attention, "What about Jack¡¯s legs? What do they look like?¡± He lifted his eyes towards the voice and simply said, ¡°They don¡¯t, for Jack has no legs,¡± he paused. ¡°Everything alright?¡± asked Carey. ¡°Yes,¡± Harry said, in a second he shook whatever obstructed his flow and reset his demeanor back to its original expression, "At least not in that form he doesn¡¯t. But you see, Jack does not linger in that shape forever, because for several unknown reasons he¡­ Shifts and that is usually a very, bad, nasty omen for whoever can see him,¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± said another boy from the group.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Well, Jack manifests to someone for a specific reason, and changes shape for yet another, not everyone goes through the same stages with him. Some go on for months, but some don¡¯t live to see the next morning sun. Many people reiterated their early encounters with him. All provided different reasons for his apparition, with the exception of one thing; they all agreed that no matter what you do, when you first see him, never, ever make the mistake of screaming in fear. In fact, you must do the opposite, do your best to never let your terror show on your face,¡± ¡°Why? What would happen?¡± ¡°If by any unfortunate blunder, you let him hear your scream, he¡¯ll immediately begin to shift. He¡¯ll squeal as his bones crack. He¡¯ll twist around and about for sixty seconds on end, that interval of time might sound short, but trust me when I tell you, it¡¯ll feel like centuries. At the end of that horrendous demonstration, Jack will have the height and build of an average man. Now his skin will look the furthest from that of a man, viscid and chewy like old slime, the color of ashes then¡­ The smell, vomit inducing, putrid, you will never be able to smell another thing again,¡± ¡°Has nobody ever tried to kill this thing?¡± asked the girl who spoke at the beginning. ¡°What do you think?¡± he answered, then he continued, "Thousands of people have caught sight of Jack in this town, and that kept happening for generations, none of them lived long enough to tell what Jack does in his third stage, that was until¡­,¡± ¡°Until?¡± The group nudged him to go on. ¡°Well, I lied¡­ See? Not everyone died after seeing Jack. The rumors have it that out of the thousands of those that perished, three people lived. But I didn¡¯t leave it at that of course, I had to go about and confirm the veracity of these rumors. I found out that, the first survivor was a man, a blind man. He wasn¡¯t born that way, he got into a horrific accident that took his sight from him and by the same occasion, his ability to see Jack. He was already at the second stage when the accident happened. Somehow one tragedy saved him from another, from a much more gruesome fate,¡± Harry was cut off again, only this time by a gasp, ¡°What is it, Mike?¡± quizzed one of his friends. ¡°I heard ruffling coming from behind the trees and¡­ I think I saw some movement there,¡± ¡°The second survivor was, what I called my gold mine,¡± Harry completely ignored Mike¡¯s statement and carried on with the story like nothing had happened, ¡°She was an old bat. She died of old age; can you believe that? She saw Jack and got away with it unscathed. How did she do it? You might ask,¡± Harry had anticipated that question through the looks on their faces and began to answer it before they uttered a word, "She was believed to be a witch, and she somehow used her practice in her favor, and apparently, that worked just fine for her. She said that if you anger Jack enough, he moves away from his corner. He faces you. He even gives you a few minutes to wrap your head around what¡¯s happening. If you ask me about it, it¡¯s just plane cruel, it¡¯s like dangling a giant knife under somebody¡¯s nose before slitting their throat open. You have no idea of the sheer terror you¡¯ll feel when your brain has enough time to register what will happen to you,¡± Harry quit speaking again, he slowly clasped his hands together in an attempt to discreetly stop them from shaking. ¡°What about the third survivor?¡± Carey asked wearily. ¡°When he heard of the witch¡¯s story, he felt hopeful again. It had been weeks since he¡¯d gotten a good night''s sleep, weeks since he¡¯d been able to just sit and enjoy a show or even hang out with his friends. He¡¯d almost forgotten what hope meant. He thought he could use witchcraft too, only he¡¯d never dabbled into it and witches were really hard to come by. So, he sought help from other entities, and managed to strike a deal with one,¡± ¡°You say he, so it was another man?¡± said Mike. Another tousle came from behind the trees nearby, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. All of their heads snapped that way, all except¡­ For Harry¡¯s. ¡°What was¡­ The pact?¡± Carey''s voice was shaky. She was afraid to ask. She was able to connect a few dots throughout his speech. ¡°You can¡¯t blame him really. He only wanted to live, to grow old. You see? he swore to give an offering of seven innocent souls¡­ No matter where. All that mattered was that it had to be done under the light of a full moon, like tonight¡­,¡± They all froze, unsure what to make of his words. Was it a joke? In which case, they didn¡¯t want to look silly when the reveal came, but, what if? ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Very funny Harry,¡± Mike chuckled nervously, trying to defuse the awkward atmosphere. Although, his smile quickly faded when he saw Harry¡¯s demeanor, ¡±I am sorry. I truly am. I was really starting to like you guys, but you know how it is¡­ You can¡¯t really make friends when you¡¯re dead. No! You''ve got to be alive for that, am I right?¡± Their hearts dropped to their stomachs when they saw Harry turn towards the twig snapping sounds. They watched in horror as the thing dangerously approached them. It matched the description of Jack he¡¯d given them, that of his second stage. Something Harry had omitted and that they noticed was its eyes, shining red like the open gates of hell. Harry smiled to greet his expected guest, "Happy feasting!¡± Ostium From where I stood, my pillow suddenly seemed extra soft. I didn¡¯t know how much longer I could resist its temptation. At that point, all I wanted was to close my eyes, turn over a new leaf and¡­ Leave the long day I had securely shut in a chapter behind me. See, I was so exhausted that the dreamland couldn¡¯t wait for my body to fall asleep before claiming my mind. From the corner of my eyes, I could already see shadow figures and speedy large spiders that¡­ Were never there when I turned to look. But of course, had I fallen into deep sleep that night like every other night, I wouldn¡¯t be here telling this story, and you wouldn¡¯t be here reading it. I wouldn¡¯t be telling you that, no matter how safe you think you¡¯re being, there will always be a window of error, something you¡¯ll fail to consider perhaps¡­ Something that¡¯ll escape your control¡­ And just like me, someday you¡¯ll find yourself in a situation you never thought you¡¯d be in. Those stories that only happened to other people, those traps you swore to never be stupid enough to fall for, well¡­ One moment I was getting ready for bed, for a good rest in the quiet provided by the night and¡­ The next, before I could even fathom what I¡¯d heard, my legs had already moved, out of my room, through the hallway, down the stairs and finally¡­ The door. At first, everything seemed ordinary, the sky tinted with its accustomed dark shade of blue, the stars shone bright like their usual. The neighborhood however, felt unusually quiet, it was like people had heard the same thing I had, like everybody killed every sound around them out of curiosity but nobody bothered to come out and check. So, tired as I was, I thought I should probably do the same and just forget about it, only¡­ Only, I had no home to go back to when I turned around; What I had left behind was replaced by a sight from hell, the once dark sky was of a fiery red, the ground sandy brown, dry and barren and it extended as far as my eyes could see. The flora of that environment was as dead as the sorry view I was gazing upon. Left, right, front and back, I had nowhere to go, I couldn¡¯t recognize any part of that place no matter how much I looked around myself. And then it hit me, my heart began to sink down to my guts, slowly but surely. Why did I do that? Why didn¡¯t I do what I should have done like I was taught to since my childhood? I had one freaking job in that situation, one! But I managed to screw that up, so there I was, debating which feeling to push forward in the long waiting list of sensations brewing inside me. A loud ear-piercing howl arose steadily, very similar to the one I¡¯d heard in my bedroom. I couldn¡¯t pinpoint the direction it came from; it echoed between the walls of my skull and then, just as it started, it came to a cease. Something cracked behind me, and I instinctively flipped around to be met by a vision of such horror that I believed, English didn¡¯t hold enough words for me to describe it accurately. There they were, a whole bunch of them, feasting upon the fresh flesh of another still alive poor creature. I watched as they drenched the soil around them in its blood, as they mercilessly tore through its meat and I¡­ Listened to its shrieks of agony, although I couldn¡¯t tell what species they were, neither the eaters nor their food. They were all identical, four feet tall, they had no necks, the tops of their bodies were simply round. They looked like live black blobs and quite frankly they seemed almost cute¡­ At first. But then they looked at me and my legs began to slowly take step back after step back, one foot behind another, my speed was increasing; I just knew I had to get out of there, I knew I was going to be their next meal if I stayed, the eyes of a predator were unmistakable. They had noticed me, they had caught on to my audacious plan to save my skin from them and they were not going to stand for that; they began advancing towards me, leaving the already half dead creature they were munching on a few seconds prior, to agonize as it patiently waited for a slow death to come. I broke into a run, disconnecting my gaze from their traumatizingly mesmerizing eyes. All I could hear at that moment was the sound of my heart beating hard in my chest, their joyful screams as well as that of my desperate inhales and exhales. Another blood curdling howl came to disrupt that pace, I looked behind me only to see a bunch of blobby dark figures darting in my direction. They were fast, very fast, the distance between me and them was shrinking considerably and I wondered how long before they closed in on me, but I just kept sprinting as every fiber of my being screamed to never stop so, I didn¡¯t. I must have been running for a while, the terror had me in its clutches so tight I didn¡¯t notice that, the blobs where nowhere to be heard anymore. I turned around and I could see them standing in a straight horizontal line next to each other, it was like I had crossed an invisible line that they knew better than to cross. It was silent all of a sudden, deafening. It sent shivers down the deepest corners of my soul. I knew it wasn¡¯t over yet, I knew I wasn¡¯t out of that nightmare yet. I was correct, right at that thought I heard a muffled giggle, its tone made me extremely uncomfortable. I heard it again, a bit louder and closer than the one before. ¡°You crashed their party,¡± someone said to me. Were there any humans other than me in that place? I thought. ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked. ¡°Funny, I should ask you that. Wandering into my territory¡­ Uninvited! Might I add,¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t want to wander,¡± ¡°Come this way,¡± they said. ¡°Which way?¡± for the few words we had exchanged, I still couldn¡¯t see them. ¡°Any way you want, just walk,¡± So, I did that, I walked. To be fair, I was not sure I had any other choice but to oblige. My train of thoughts shut down immediately after my eyes could perceive her¡­ Him, It? Their voice sounded gravely but feminine and definitely on the older side. That was how my human brain managed to describe it anyway. They sat cross-legged on the ground, even with that imposing hunch on their back, they were clearly abnormally large despite their humanoid appearance at first glance, they were taller than me without the need to even stand.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. They were covered, head to toe by a large black robe, and they made sure to conceal their face as much as possible from me, for a reason that I couldn¡¯t be bothered to find out, all I wanted was to get the hell out of that place. ¡°Sit !¡± they ordered, cutting my thoughts in their process once again, with more authority in their voice than they had before. I obliged again. A very low and small table held space between us, separating me from the creature as we faced each other. ¡°What do you want?¡± I mumbled. ¡°What do I want? I thought you were the one with questions,¡± they answered. ¡°Well, if you could answer one question, it would definitely be, how do I get out of this place? I just want to go back home,¡± ¡°You are not the least bit curious about this place? Usually, the visitors I get, ask me a few other questions before getting down to business,¡± they said. I didn¡¯t think I was sitting too close to them, but apparently, I was sitting close enough to catch a whiff of their scent. I easily recognized their smell to be that of decay, of a rotting corpse. I couldn¡¯t stop my stomach from churning, but I did my best to force the refluxes back down my throat. but wait a minute, ¡°Usually? visitors before me? Business?¡± I didn¡¯t throw my dinner back out, but I sure did vomit all of those words one after the other. ¡°Ah! There it is, your tongue is finally untwisting,¡± they said eerily too cheerful, then they continued, ¡°You are not very far from home, as strange as that may sound to you, in fact on the contrary you are very close,¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Let me guess, you heard a strange howl in the night, and you went out to investigate, then you found yourself in our land? That¡¯s what people usually say when they reach me at least, when they are lucky enough to do so,¡± I didn¡¯t utter a word, expecting more, ¡°But usually, they all come from one place, one peculiar town hum¡­,¡± they appeared to be seeking the name of said town. ¡°GrayBird?¡± I tried. ¡°Why yes! You are from there too I see, but most of those I spoke to before you seemed more curious about this place than you,¡± ¡°I am not here to explore, I¡­¡± ¡°You broke the rule by accident!¡± they roared along with a fire that I could have sworn wasn¡¯t there before. I felt ridiculous, even a creature in such a hell hole of a place was mocking my pathetic state. But before I could say anything they called for my attention again, ¡±Well, in that case, the less you learn about this place the better, just know that I am your only ticket out of here,¡± My eyes opened wide at those words. For a second, I wondered if it was only a cruel joke but, my desperation chose to believe it even if it was one, ¡°What should I do?¡± I hastened. ¡°Play a game with me,¡± ¡°Is this a joke?¡± They seemed to brush my question off and instead, gracefully gestured down towards the small table. On it sat three golden upside-down cups, ¡°You must find the blue eye,¡± they simply said, before lifting all three of them to reveal¡­ Three eyes, all of which had a different color, and each was hidden underneath their respective cup. They looked like they were freshly gouged out of their sources. A question bubbled up in my mind and I asked it before I could consider it, ¡±What happens if I fail?¡± ¡°You pay a small price for the opportunity you¡¯re getting,¡± they sounded almost annoyed, something told me that I didn¡¯t want to find out the cost of my failure, ¡±Shall you succeed, I will grant you a one time ticket out of here, and you will make sure to be more careful next time, but shall you fail, you must pay the price,¡± they finished. ¡°And I will never get to go home?¡± I panicked. ¡°Of course not, it wouldn¡¯t be fun if that was the case. See, you have one chance at this game every twenty four hours,¡± ¡°If I pay the price of my previous failure¡­¡± They remained silent and proceeded to cup the eyes again. They began to shuffle the cups around and shamble them and at first, I could easily spot the cup that covered the blue eye but¡­ As time went by, their speed started to increase, and they switched the objects so fast that I¡¯d lost track of the right one. My eyes were frantically thrashing between them in a hopeless attempt to find it but fear got the better me. If I could have afforded one moment of clarity, it was right then or never. I discreetly uncrossed my legs and instead sat on my knees, ready to push my weight back on my feet at a faster rate, and when it finally finished shuffling, it rested their arms back on their legs and waited. My hand shakily pointed towards the middle cup; they pushed a low malevolent giggle that froze my blood. At that point, my entire body was shaking, and I shyly lifted my eyes towards their face, that¡­ They finally decided to show me. Everything after that happened so fast, I saw the small table get thrusted far from where it sat before, the creature stood. I almost sprained my ankle as I hurriedly stood from my place and turned to run for the hills, run for my life, run¡­ Like hell. Despite everything that was said, somehow I knew I didn¡¯t want to pay that stupid price of theirs, I knew it was far more expensive than they made it out to be. As I ran, I finally allowed myself to ponder on their features; first their eyes, far too big in proportion to their face in my opinion, the inside very similar to those of humans, they had pupils and scleras but had no irises and no lashes either. Their skin was the color of a severely anemic person, they had very thin purple veins protruding from underneath. And when they stood, they did so at almost 9 feet of height. Once more, I was running like there was no tomorrow for my soul, and once more when I turned to check for my progress, I found the creature standing still, just like the blobs it was as if it knew not to wander off outside their own territory. Only this creature did not remain silent, it spoke to me, parting words. It sounded like it was warning me from something, ¡±You should have never done that! I am the nicest being you¡¯ll ever come across in this land! But you soon, very soon, will understand why every human that sets foot here rarely gets to leave!¡± I did take them seriously, but I still had no choice but to keep on walking, until the next dweller perhaps or a miracle. Just when the word ¡® miracle¡¯ crossed my mind, a warm and welcoming bright gleam reached my sight and skin. I apprehensively stepped towards it but something about it convinced me to let my guard down and have faith in the light. It felt like it was my only chance, my way out, like I was finally going home and as soon as I was close enough to see what was beyond it, that vision drew a so long needed, genuine smile on my face. I was back in my bedroom, it looked exactly like I had left it moments before. I scrambled to the window and was very relieved to see my old boring neighborhood. I hysterically ran through the hallways all the way to the kitchen and even the bathroom just to make sure that I was truly back in my home. I leaped up and down, laughed and then cried, I almost kissed the floors. And then I remembered the reason I got into that mess in the first place. I carried my exhaustion back to my bedroom where my bed and pillow screamed for me to hop in. I lied down, threw a last look at my room before turning the light off. Everything seemed ordinary, all my furniture looked back at me from their usual places, including that sad old painting of Dante''s inferno or whatever the hell it was supposed to represent, hanging on the wall facing me. There were many things in GrayBird Town to keep an eye out for, many phenomena, happenings, rules and tales that go around. One rule to never forget here is: If you ever hear a single strange howl in the dead of night in GrayBird Town, whatever you do, never go out of your home to investigate. I was taught this rule ever since I learned to walk on my own, but that day I finally understood why, and I swore to never make that mistake ever again. I closed my sore eyes trying to fall into that long overdue slumber, but the last words of that creature chose precisely that moment to sink deeper in and¡­ My eyes shot open when I remembered that¡­ I never had an old painting depicting the semblance of hell in my room. I¡­ Wasn¡¯t in my room. Cold hearts I don¡¯t remember much of my mother. Her scent was the first thing about her that faded. The second thing was her voice. My mind barely held on to the memory of her face. Although, the portraits of her that I¡¯d plastered all around the house have played their parts in that. I just wish I had a picture of her smiling. I wish I''d gotten to spend more time with her. I lost her so early on in my life and I solemnly wish that the last thing I¡¯d ever witnessed of her was something other than her death. It has been exactly twenty years since that wretched night, but I still wonder from time to time; if things had been different that night, would I have had the chance to live a half normal childhood? If I hadn¡¯t lost the last of my relatives on that same night? Would I have had somebody to celebrate Christmas with? like most people around me? For all I have to keep me company right now, is the crackling coming to my ears from the fireplace, and the brightness reflecting from the white coat of snow covering the entire town, my eyes always and very easily get lost in it. Who wouldn¡¯t wonder though? It sounds fairly human to do so, especially on Christmas, the anniversary of her death. Come to think of it, I wonder if I ever had a chance at a normal life at all, being a Reznik and all. I don¡¯t believe that members of my family, just like myself, were ever meant to have a conventional existence, not in this town, at least. Christmas is very understandably a special event for obvious reasons all around parts of the world, but in GrayBird town, it is memorable for a peculiar and quite frankly terrifying one. Starting from sundown on the twenty fifth of December and ending at sunrise the next morning, everyone must stay confined in the warmth and safety of their homes. If anyone was ever foolish enough or forced by their own unfortunate circumstances to wander the grounds in that lapse of time, their deaths wouldn¡¯t be guaranteed but¡­ If they have the miserable luck to encounter one of ¡°them¡± their demise would certainly not be swift. I should know something about that, I had a first-row seat to that dreadful show¡­ Twenty years ago. In the old town¡¯s church, at the very top of its highest tower, a gigantic bell is perched. The sound of its ringing reaches to cover the entire turf of GrayBird, but oddly enough its sound ceases at once right beyond the town¡¯s welcome sign. The custom wants that on the last Friday of every month, at precisely nine o¡¯clock, this bell must be ringed at any cost without failure, and it can categorically not be done by someone other than a member of the Reznik family. There is a ¡°why¡± and a ¡°because¡± to that of course, but that is another story for another day. Well, as I casually mentioned before, I am a Reznik, and the last Friday of December twenty years ago happened to also be the twenty fifth of that same month. I was but a child, I couldn¡¯t grasp the implications of that at the time. It was my mother¡¯s job to worry about it then. I remember her pacing the living room back and forth, unsure of which rule to prioritize that night. I had my eyes glued on her the whole time, as I picked small chocolate pieces from their box and deposited them in my mouth. I couldn¡¯t stop looking at my mom because on that night she had her long hair loose, unlike her usual. She¡¯d always had it up in a bun.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Now that I think of it, I bet she did it on purpose, to prevent me from seeing her face. She probably thought I wouldn¡¯t recognize her because of the fear and terror screwing her traits. Eventually, considering many people lived to count the tale of their Christmas night out, she decided it was best to uphold the bell duty. It was eight thirty in the night when she put a soft and thick blanket around my shoulders, told me to stay put and to not open the door to anyone, unless I heard her voice behind it. I remember crying for her to take me with her. I didn¡¯t like the idea of staying home alone, so she told me I could sit on the couch by the window, to keep an eye on her as she went. She promised me that it would only be an hour before she came back to me, and I¡­ Believed her. I watched as her figure moved further and further away from our house until it faded behind some trees ahead. I stayed in place and waited for what seemed like an eternity, until I heard it¡­ The bell, she¡¯d made it there. Just like she¡¯d disappeared, she reappeared half an hour later. This time I observed her silhouette as it drew closer to me, resembling more and more the woman I knew my whole life to be my mother. I was so happy to see her, that she was only a few feet from the door, so focused on her that I didn¡¯t notice the other figure dangerously trudging towards her. When I paid closer attention, it looked like nothing more than a woman, but I found it odd, her lack of shivering considering the clothes she was wearing. I was sure that one white, light and long night gown was never going to keep anyone warm, but then I saw her lips move and my mom stopped walking and turned her attention towards the stranger. She closed the distance between the two of them, I couldn¡¯t hear what they were saying. I couldn¡¯t see their faces but then, my mother turned to face our house, I could swear she was looking straight at the window she knew I was gazing through. She gave me one miserable smile. I watched as the woman laid a hand on my mother¡¯s shoulder and drained her of any and all colors. My mother¡¯s skin was turning blue then leaned towards the gray shades, very slowly, as if life was being sucked out of her lungs and eyes, until she finally fell to her knees then face planted in the snow. The stranger stood in place without wavering. When she looked in my direction, the only things that I¡¯d gathered about her were her harsh traits, her closed face as though she could never love or forgive another soul in the world. She walked closer to the window. She was so close that I could feel the cold emanating from her. That woman could freeze one¡¯s blood with a touch and I had proof of it. I wanted to scream and shout, but she spoke first¡­ ¡°Oh, why the tears dear, tis the way of sin, for rotten seed stroll these grounds and so, the scion must square the debt that their ancestors left behind,¡± My tears glacial on my cheeks, I couldn¡¯t fathom her words at the time. I wasn¡¯t a stupid child by any means, but I was no genius either. When she finished speaking, I could swear there were others standing behind her, other ice women just like her. I didn¡¯t bother counting their numbers, busy being a mess. Today I understand, the meaning of her statement. Whoever pissed them off lived in GrayBird long ago, and now they are making us pay for it. Although cruel and unjust I can¡¯t help but stop to wonder, about whatever it was that happened to those women, who they were and what their lives were like back in their days. I mostly wonder if I¡¯ll get to see them tonight as well since¡­ I am the last Reznik alive in this town, and it¡¯s already eight o¡¯clock on this last Friday of December¡­ Merry Christmas to you all. The graveyard life Sarah liked to make believe. She liked to pretend that she was walking the streets of Rome or Milan, roaming Venice on board of a charming little boat. Dreamed of a life she could call her own outside the hellhole she considered GrayBird town to be. She longed for a day she could simply up and go, leave the place and people she always knew behind herself. Most of all, her only wish was one she knew was purely unattainable. Sarah only wished for the years to go backwards, to the sorrowful day she turned sixteen. Her sixteenth birthday was the day everything had changed for her. It was the day she¡¯d begun to hear them, the voices. They were faint at first, weak, and shy¡­ But through the years, they gained in strength, growing bolder. They were harmless most of the time but became very nasty the moment she paid them any attention. ¡°There¡¯s a bridge ahead! Wonder how far down it goes. Want to jump over and see that for me, Sarah?¡± said an overbearingly mawkish little voice to Sarah¡¯s right. The young woman felt as though a little fairy was sitting on her shoulder whispering foul nothings into her ear. ¡°It¡¯ll be ok. Nobody will miss you, you can do it, Sarah!¡± another one spoke. Sarah shook her head fiercely, as she was about to cross an empty bridge under the moonlight, an attempt to throw the voices off that she knew to be pointless. ¡°You don¡¯t want to play with us, Sarah?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not being very nice. You¡¯re supposed to be nice to your friends, Sarah!¡± ¡°We¡¯re always nice to you, Sarah. You¡¯re not fair!¡± ¡°No wonder nobody likes you,¡± They spoke one after the other, they took no breaks, they had no regards to Sarah¡¯s feelings. They paid no mind to her overflowing tears. They were relentless with their words, brutal with their utterances that cut through her heart like daggers. ¡°Please¡­ Stop, please¡­,¡± Sarah finally snapped. She begged through her gasps for breaths. The voices were so loud, they¡¯d completely consumed Sarah¡¯s mind, so much so that they¡¯d eclipsed the footsteps¡¯ sounds of a woman strolling behind her. When she heard Sarah¡¯s quiet pleas, when she saw her desperate state, she stopped to ask, ¡°Are you alright?¡± Sarah scrambled to find a convincing response to the stranger before her. For all the bizarreness that devoured GrayBird town¡­ Sarah¡¯s case was peculiar for its unique reasons. Nobody could hear what she heard, nobody could walk in her shoes, not for a split second, not ever, ¡±Yes, it¡¯s just that¡­ It was a long day and I needed to let it all out, better than keeping it bottled up inside, you know,¡± she said. ¡°Yes, I suppose¡­ I understand. Be safe,¡± the woman replied and continued her walk past Sarah, who stood still for a moment. She followed the woman with her gaze, noting that she was holding a beautiful flower bouquet. Even under the night sky, Sarah could see that she was wearing an all-black attire. After a few seconds, Sarah started walking again, her eyes still on the woman. A few feet ahead of her, the woman took an open entrance to her left. Sarah caught up to her then stopped in front of that same entrance. It was the GrayBird cemetery¡¯s gates, Sarah hadn¡¯t been there since her grandmother¡¯s burial, and that was a decade ago. ¡°No!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t go in there!¡± ¡°You¡¯ll die!¡± As if on cue, the voices rose all together, terrified. They hammered her with cries of dissuasion. Would she truly die in there? It didn¡¯t make sense to Sarah, not one bit. After all, only minutes ago, they¡¯d been trying to make her jump off a bridge. So, why were they so concerned with her safety all of the sudden? Determined to figure out what frightened the voices to such an extent, Sarah took her steps towards the graveyard, ignoring their urgent and pitiful cries for her to stop. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was satisfying for her to ignore them. For once since her sixteenth birthday, she finally got to turn the tables on them. They¡¯d always disregarded and laughed at her cries for mercy. She felt vindicated, avenged. Then, she felt pathetic that she¡¯d even enjoyed that short lived victory against the voices that had turned her life into an unending hell, for all those years. Sarah remained in place, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and readied herself for whatever came at her in there but¡­ Nothing came at all. She waited and waited. She breathed the air into her lungs some more. She thought it was oddly fresh, much fresher than the air she¡¯d been breathing for years, before something dawned on her.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The voices¡­ They were gone. For the first time in seven years, her mind was quiet and clear. For the first time in seven years, she could hear the sound of pure silence. Her eyes shot open, the realization hit her so fast, she couldn¡¯t fathom it. Although, once she rested her irises on the image in front of her, she immediately understood that there was much more to unravel in that place. Looking from the inside, the graveyard didn¡¯t seem so cold, grim and gloomy as it always had for the outside onlookers. It didn¡¯t appear to be abandoned or neglected. In fact, it was the total opposite. The gravestones were flawless and clean, they glistened and reflected the moonlight. The names engraved onto them were perfectly legible, thanks to the candle flames burning at the foot of each stone. Oddly enough, their wax was of an immaculate snow white, and all the sticks were of the same length, no matter for how long they burned. Each grave was decorated with its own variety of gorgeous flowers. The grass around was cut precisely even. The areas of it that were enlightened by the candles possessed an unnaturally vivid color. Sarah walked along the paved path that offered itself to her. The place gave her such a warm welcome that she barely paid attention to where she wandered. Everything about that site was pleasant and easy on the eyes, although, something felt out of place, a scent. A sickeningly sweet, metallic smell reached Sarah¡¯s nostrils. But before she could dwell on that matter, another scene completely captured her senses. Surely, it came out of a fairytale, she thought. A wide, majestic willow tree greeted her from a distance. Right under its leaves, a table covered by a flamboyant white cloth was posted. There sat a group of merry women, chattering about and dining. They seemed to be in the middle of a joyful celebration. Their laughter filled the atmosphere all around. The view was veiled behind a thin mystifying haze, giving it a dreamy feel. Sarah thought she could walk a little closer to them. She so wanted to join them. She hadn¡¯t desired something that strongly for a while. And so, she allowed her feet the freedom to fulfill her wish. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you,¡± startled by the voice that came from behind her, she swiftly spun around to meet the gaze of a seemingly middle-aged man, ¡±It¡¯s a private party, and they don¡¯t like intruders,¡± he continued. ¡°Who are they?¡± Sarah asked before thinking of a more important question, ¡±Who are you?¡± He chuckled at her awkwardness before answering shortly after, ¡±You may call me Gareth. As for those,¡± he hinted at the women afar, ¡±They are the true keepers of this place,¡± ¡°The true keepers?¡± Sarah was confused. ¡°To the human eye, I hold that title. Officially at least, but¡­ In reality, all the merits belong to them,¡± he said. Sarah didn¡¯t exactly register what he meant by ¡°the merits¡± until she took another look around the place, ¡±You mean the fact that this cemetery looks like the perfect description of heaven? if it weren¡¯t for the graves and all¡­,¡± ¡°Are you here to see a loved one? Visitors usually come after sunrise,¡± he¡¯d ignored her last question and turned around to walk away as he spoke. Sarah followed after him, ¡±No, it¡¯s¡­ Complicated,¡± she looked at the floor as she stated that. ¡°Say no more. We all have our demons, but this is a safe zone,¡± he said. She knew he had a smile on his face, even without seeing it. ¡°A safe zone?¡± Sarah questioned, incredulous. Was there a possibility that the man understood her struggle? She thought she was being presumptuous, seeing that he hadn''t said much yet. For years she¡¯d felt so lonely and isolated, that the thought of someone understanding her seemed like a high hanging fruit, too much out of her reach. ¡°Whatever your torments are, they stay at the entrance when you come here,¡± he said. ¡°Do you¡­ Have torments?¡± she asked before reconsidering her words, finding that she could have crossed a line, ¡±I mean¡­ Something that follows you wherever you go? I am sorry if I am overstepping,¡± ¡°You are overstepping,¡± he paused, then he added, ¡±I stay inside the graveyard because within here, the sun doesn¡¯t burn me during the day,¡± he answered her regardless. ¡°I have voices in my head,¡± she said, a sentence to which he raised an eyebrow, so she decided to clarify, ¡±That¡¯s my torment, ever since I turned sixteen,¡± she thought it was only fair for him to know of her deepest and darkest secret, after he¡¯d done told her his, ¡°So, this is¡­. A totally safe zone? It¡¯s true?¡± ¡°Whatever strange happenings take place in this town; they all stop at the graveyard¡¯s gates. It seems the witches want a peaceful place to rest after they bite the dust,¡± he said. ¡°The witches?¡± Sarah asked. ¡°Oh yes! This town crawls with their kind. They just keep their heads down,¡± ¡°Are you¡­One?¡± she asked reluctantly. ¡°No,¡± he said simply. ¡°Are you the only one that¡­ Lives here?¡± she said. ¡°No, there¡¯s Travis but he mostly only confines himself here on full moons,¡± he answered. ¡°What happens to him on full moons?¡± ¡°What creature do you think are most affected by the powers of a full moon?¡± he stopped in his tracks and turned slightly towards Sarah, to look at her expression upon hearing his question. ¡°Werewolves?¡± Sarah only sounded half shocked by that revelation. She was born and raised in GrayBird town, the existence of werewolves and witches wasn¡¯t about to shake her core. ¡°Did you ever wonder what kind of creature you were? Mademoiselle?¡± By then, he¡¯d started walking again. Sarah realized that she hadn¡¯t told him her name still. She wondered how rude he must''ve thought she was, but then again, he didn¡¯t seem bothered by it at all, ¡°Sarah, my name is¡­ Sarah, and no, I''ve never wondered about my nature before. Truthfully, I always thought I was a lunatic so¡­,¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about that. What kind of creature burns under the sun? Now that¡¯s a question you should worry yourself with,¡± he said, suddenly stopping in front of her. Sarah was so fascinated by all the discoveries she¡¯d made that night, all those amazing things hidden in such an uncanny place that she''d forgotten she was speaking to a complete stranger. He¡¯d led her away from the willow tree and the witches. He kept facing the same way, didn¡¯t turn around. He just stood stiff in a disturbing manner and remained silent. She remembered that before her, a woman had entered the graveyard, only to disappear without a trace. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she''d caught no sign of the woman since she crossed the threshold of the cemetery, which didn¡¯t make sense¡­ Even in GrayBird. Then she remembered, one minute detail she¡¯d brushed off the moment she laid eyes on the magnificent tree earlier. The metallic smell¡­ Sarah felt her stomach drop to her heels, her blood cluttering in her veins. ¡°Vampires?¡± she uttered as he turned around to face her. The perfect family The Wellers were, without a doubt, the embodiment of the perfect family. They were immensely envied yet very well liked by the entire neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. Weller possessed all the qualities a child could wish for in a parent, and their kids; Mary, Alex and Hannah were every parent¡¯s dream children. Each and every one of them achieved inarguable success at anything they undertook. They reached any and all goals they set their minds on. Although their wealth was only moderate, everything they touched flourished, everything about them was objectively better. Their looks, their manners as well as anything they owned. It was as though they all stumbled upon four leafed clovers on a daily basis. In a way I found that to be strange, but then again, living in a place such as GrayBird town, the dwelling of all oddities, may have swayed my understanding of the word from what could be considered conventionally strange¡­ Whatever that really meant. My sister was quite a close friend of Mary, their oldest daughter. She would never shut up about how Mary had the best clothes, the best hair, the best makeup and how she¡¯d always get the attention of all the boys around them, and I could always discern the jealousy through her words and the frustration in her voice, yet somehow, I could always tell how much she cared about her, still. I¡¯d only ever interacted with Alex, their middle child, shortly. I thought he was pretty decent, and I always enjoyed our mild conversations together. That was why there was no reluctance to accept their invitation for dinner, the occasion being the eighteenth birthday of Mary. Not that I wanted to miss the chance to see the inside of their perfect looking house, but I did wonder why Mary didn¡¯t simply throw a party for her and her friends, I wondered why my parents were invited as well so, I asked my sister about it, to which she gave me the very brief and wise answer of,¡± Just mind your socks!¡± ¡­It Brushed off my desire to understand it. The days went by and brought the diner party night along. It was six thirty o¡¯clock already and I was struggling to properly put a tie around my collar, It wasn¡¯t my usual attire, therefore not my fort¨¦, but I still wanted to make a good impression. Seven o¡¯clock came around and we were all gathered at the front door, ready to go when the phone started to ring in the kitchen; I volunteered to answer it and was bummed out to learn that I couldn¡¯t join them for the party after all. The caller was my friend, he¡¯d informed me that our school project that was due the next day, comprised several flagrant errors and we needed to tend to them. So, I stayed behind. When my friend finally left our house, the clock indicated that it was eight o¡¯clock. Only an hour had passed since my family went to the diner. Considering they weren¡¯t back yet, I thought that maybe it wasn¡¯t too late for me to join them. I ran out towards the house next door, then I stopped to take a breath and calm my panting before knocking. I noted how quiet everything was, too quiet even. No sound or noise came from inside the house at all. For a home that was supposed to be hosting a dinner party, I thought it was a bit weird. But then I thought that the house may have been constructed in a way to prevent any sound from getting out. After about ten seconds of standing there, I finally knocked on the door and waited¡­ Then waited, but nobody came to open. I knocked again, and when the same thing happened, I decided to look through the windows that gave a view towards the front of the house, but it was too dark for me to see anything. I gave a third pointless knock before grabbing the doorknob and twisting it. I was glad to see that it was unlocked, I pushed it open a few inches and slid inside. ¡°Hello? It¡¯s me, sorry I am a bit late¡­¡± I¡¯d started to justify my late arrival, until I realized, nobody was there to hear it. I was inside the house and I still couldn¡¯t hear anything. No music, no talking, no laughing¡­ Just silence. I carefully moved around and did my best to avoid accidentally smashing into closed doors or walls, since the lights were off. I quickly turned my head when something caught my eyes; an area of the house was lit, I could see it from where I stood. I walked along the hallway that led me there. When I finally reached its end, I realized I was standing in the middle of yet another hallway, although one side of it was completely consumed by darkness. The other one however, was enlightened by nothing more than candle flames, they sat on chandeliers that were attached to the walls. I was only happy I could finally see where my feet landed at first, then I began to pay attention to my surroundings. Both the walls to my left and right, were riddled with framed pictures. I ventured a bit further down that corridor and examined those images. All of them, with no exception, were photos of the Wellers, but they were never alone on them. There were other people that I assumed to be relatives of theirs standing in pose near them, I couldn¡¯t recognize any of them. My sight finally landed on a picture I couldn¡¯t take my eyes off of. There was an inexplicably familiar face that belonged to a young boy who stood by Alex¡¯s side. I could¡¯ve sworn I knew that boy from somewhere. I was sure I¡¯d met him before; I was adamant I¡­ My train of thoughts was abruptly cut short, I just froze in place, my blood feeling colder and colder in my veins, my stomach suddenly felt too heavy for my abdomen to carry, and my chest became too tight to contain my heart. Jeremy! It was Jeremy! How could I have forgotten about Jeremy Benson? We used to play together everyday, we were inseparable, the Bensons¡­ They lived in the house across from ours until¡­ Only three months ago, how impossible was that?If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. But I started to remember, it was like hundreds of doors that were sealed for an eternity reopened in my mind. Memories flooding out and zooming through my brain like bullet trains. I¡¯d begun to put together the pieces of the puzzle that were scattered all over in my head, until I could see it all very clearly, the final image. The last time I ever saw Jeremy, he told me that he and his family were going to¡­ No¡­ I hurried over to the next picture, that one also featured familiar faces, besides the Wellers. Trisha Holloway, I used to sleep every night wishing for her to disappear without leaving a trace, she tormented me for years at school, until¡­ One day, she just stopped showing up. My head jerked from left to right, everywhere I looked¡­ Familiar faces, forgotten souls, people I''d only seen a week before... Saying that I was freaking out is a huge understatement. Something came behind me and dragged me out of my internal mental spiral; a little girl¡¯s voice, ¡±You are late. We were waiting for you,¡± when I turned around to see who it was, I found that it was none other than Hannah, the Weller¡¯s youngest kid. ¡°You¡­ Were waiting for me?¡± I said cautiously. ¡°Of course, we can¡¯t start without you,¡± she said in what I would have thought was an innocent air, but then¡­ I just felt sick to my stomach. I wasn¡¯t sure of what was happening in that house, but something told me, I didn¡¯t want to know. ¡°Start what?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, the party of course, silly,¡± she said. She turned around and walked towards the pitch black side of the hallway. Before she disappeared into the darkness, a candle on the wall ignited of its own accord, out of nowhere near her. I just froze, unsure of whether to follow her or run for the hills. I was also not sure I had any other choice, considering they had my whole family somewhere in that house. I followed her eventually, making sure to keep a certain distance between us, just in case¡­ All the way, candles on the walls sparked to light, casting a fiery hue onto every surface close by. She stopped in front of the only door situated at the end of that hallway. Upon opening it, I saw that it gave place to stairs leading downwards, I assumed that was where their basement was. We descended in unbearable silence. All my senses were screaming at me to run out and never look back, but¡­ I just couldn¡¯t. As soon as I stepped off the last step, I was hit by a nauseating burning whiff of something rotting. The air around me was so concentrated with it, it made my eyes water. We¡¯d arrived in a vast empty room, made entirely in concrete, the only thing my eyes could discern down there were the pillars holding the space up, and one single opening in the wall facing me. Hannah resumed walking again, she headed towards the entrance I saw. I forced my legs to go after her, and I wasn¡¯t very surprised to find out it was another seemingly endless and lugubrious hallway. No matter how much I strained my brain, I couldn¡¯t think of one reasonable or acceptable scenario to make sense of what I was going through, nor could I think of one single outcome where I got out of that situation safe and sound with my family. After what felt like forever, I could finally hear voices coming from the end of the corridor we were traversing. The further we advanced down that path, the closer they came to my ears. ¡°There you are! What took you so long?¡± exclaimed Mrs. Weller when she saw me. The walls of that chamber were also made of concrete, but those weren¡¯t dull and empty, those were covered from top to bottom in weird symbols and sigils drawn in blood, ¡°We¡¯ve prepared a place just for you,¡± she spoke again. She ushered towards a spot on the floor, right beside my¡­ sister¡¯s unconscious body. My parents were also laid in the same position. Each of their three figures were surrounded by candles¡­ Did they expect me to just lay there? ¡°Who the fuck are you people?¡± I screamed. ¡°Hurry up, we don¡¯t have the entire night,¡± said Mr. Weller When they saw that I wasn¡¯t budging, they began to slowly advance towards me. I¡¯d started to take some steps back, but when I tried to turn and run away, I felt drowsy all of the sudden. My vision grew blurry, and I tumbled on one of the walls to support my weight, ¡±What are you doing to me?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t fight it, it¡¯s pointless,¡± Alex¡¯s voice came to my ears, and it was the last thing I was able to hear, before my eyes became too heavy for me to maintain open, and everything went black. The first thing I felt after that was the cold hard floor beneath my body, I could hear people speaking gibberish from afar, I couldn¡¯t understand what they were saying, I tried to open my eyes but to no avail. ¡°I am really sorry, I couldn¡¯t warn you about them, I couldn¡¯t leave this place, none of us can,¡± I recognized that voice, I hadn¡¯t heard it in¡­ Three months. It was Jeremy¡¯s. ¡°Jeremy? Is that you?¡± I didn¡¯t know how I did it, but I was able to speak. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess you can remember me now,¡± his voice broke at those words. ¡°He can remember all of us now, he¡¯s one of us, they all are,¡± I could tell to whom belonged that new voice as well, ¡°Trisha?¡± I asked, knowing full well it was indeed her. ¡°Welcome aboard,¡± she said in a tone I couldn¡¯t decipher, a mix between sarcasm and sadness perhaps. ¡°What¡¯s happening here?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the Wellers, they¡¯re not really human, they¡¯re¡­,¡± Jeremy trailed off. ¡°Witches. They practice what is known as blood magic, and every now and then, they offer a few sacrifices in exchange for¡­ I don¡¯t know, abundance of luck I guess,¡± Trisha finished Jeremy¡¯s sentence. I tried my best to comprehend the information I was given, but my mind was blank. The words weren¡¯t lining up correctly, my signals were all mixed. My thoughts wouldn¡¯t reach their destinations to connect and form a cohesive story, and my mouth exposed the entire process in front of Jeremy and Trisha, ¡±Witches? Blood? Sacrifice?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ You basically fell into their trap just like we all did. Perfect Wellers can never seem to do anything wrong. Why do you think nobody is ever allowed in their house?¡± Trisha added. Before I could say anything else, Jeremy spoke before I could, ¡±I am sorry, I am so sorry,¡± I followed his agonizing gaze, to see¡­ Myself and the rest of my family, slowly bleeding our veins out on that floor. We seemed so peaceful, like we were only sleeping, dreaming. Death was swift, I can¡¯t say i remember much of the process. Although, I can remember the last thing I felt before the emptiness came along; cold, I felt so cold and lonely. Now, I spend my days watching the neighborhood from a window in the attic. Watching people move on with their lives, watching weird things happening, as it is usual in Graybird town. A new family moved into our old house, they kept some of our stuff and threw away the rest without a second glance. It hurt profoundly to know that it was like we never existed at all. I thought somebody might try to figure out who we were by looking at our pictures but¡­ It seemed; we could only be remembered under the Wellers¡¯ roof. As time goes by, more and more victims of sacrifices joined us here, it is getting crammier and crammier. Sometimes we talk about our shared fate. We discuss how it should feel to know that nobody was coming for us, nobody could remember to care. We try to define and describe feelings, since the only ones we could experience were pain and emptiness. I lost count of the days, the months¡­ Years. The Wellers are still as lucky as always. They just grew older; I guess there¡¯s no spell for that. It¡¯s good to know they¡¯ll die too someday. At least we have that to look forward to. Mirror not Mirror I¡¯d heard a great deal about the famous legend of the Bloody Mary. Mainly how she is said to appear to those who plunge themselves in darkness and proceed to chant her name three times in front of a mirror. The deeper I dug into the matter, the faster I realized that I was left with more questions piling up on the side than the world could provide answers to. Many of those who¡¯d had the courage to call upon Bloody Mary in their mirrors, simply stated online that nothing had happened, yet those who¡¯d confirmed the veracity of the legend, all had a different story to tell about their own encounter with the spirit or whatever Bloody Mary is. Then there was Mary I, queen of England from 1553 to 1558, who was apparently also known as Bloody Mary by her protestant opponents, at least according to the informations I¡¯d found. Nevertheless, my research had to stop there, I couldn¡¯t go further, I couldn¡¯t venture further by attempting to prove or disprove any of those claims. I couldn¡¯t just stand in front of a mirror after sundown and perform the ritual. No, of course not, I was born and raised in GrayBird town after all. I am currently still stuck in it. Not sure if I¡¯ll ever get out. But until then, it is imperative to understand that on this land of ours, mirrors are a bit of a taboo subject. Bring them up too often and you can be sure that you will turn a few heads away from you. My own mother was giving me the cold shoulder, after I had the audacity to ask her what would happen if one was to break the rule; that was a few days ago at the breakfast table. Besides the fact that she¡¯d given me no concrete answer, she stopped being her usual chatty self with me. Now, I was never the all "doom and gloom" loner kind of teen, but I wasn¡¯t the type to proclaim my love for life either. It felt strange to admit but¡­ I liked that I didn¡¯t have to talk to my mom like I used to before. That being said, I still had no clue why my mother sat me down at the age of six, only to explain to me that the mirrors were to stay covered at all costs around the house, after sunset, and that I was to never try and look at my reflection during that time under any circumstances. Thankfully, I had my best friend Alma to help me with that. She, just like myself, couldn¡¯t just abide by the rule and leave it at that. Only three days ago she showed up to school all giddy and excited to tell me all about her little "adventure" the night before, if one could call it that. I was all ears, from beginning to end. I was a tad disappointed when she assured me that nothing had happened once she stared at her own reflection in the mirror after dark had fallen, but it didn¡¯t lessen my desire to know more about it, on the contrary it encouraged me to try it in order to see for myself. So, that same day I¡¯d vowed to essentially break one of the many rules I was taught to follow in GrayBird since my childhood. When nighttime came, that was exactly what I did. I patiently waited for my mom to fall into a deep enough state of sleep so that there wouldn¡¯t be any need for me to tip toe the entire time. Although, it was very windy outside. It created quite the racket anyway. It served my interests well enough. My time to act came at exactly one thirty-two am. I approached the mirror in my room and reached for the fabric covering the entire thing. It wasn¡¯t until I held the cloth between my fingers that I noticed how shaky my hands were. It seemed even with all the determination in the world, I still couldn¡¯t brush away the doubts engraved in the back of my mind. Not only that, but I felt my blood coursing slower through my body, like the temperature around me had suddenly dropped significantly lower. Were doubts all I had? I recalled Alma¡¯s words about her experience, she couldn¡¯t have been lying to me, she wouldn¡¯t do that, Surely? I shut my eyes and pulled the cover off the mirror at once, leaving no chance for hesitation to further get the better of me. I remained still for a moment, playing through the infinite number of possibilities that I was up against, but once I opened my eyes, there was no going back for me. I slowly pulled my eyelids off my irises, and to my surprise or¡­ Lack thereof, I saw absolutely nothing, nothing worth mentioning at least. All I caught sight of, was the boring, unchanged reflection of my room around me as well as myself, of course. I stared intensely into my own eyes, for I don¡¯t remember how long, before deciding that lingering was of no use. My arms dropped to my side, no longer shaky. I felt heavier, a lot more tired than I was a few minutes prior, or was it the sheer weight of disappointment? Not that I wished for something terrible to happen, but just¡­ Something? Anything? I dragged my feet back to my bed and threw my body on it. The whole thing took a lot more energy from me than it was worth. I settled for sleeping on that thought and got comfortable under my sheets. When I turned to my side, something grabbed my attention. I sat back up, my eyes on my alarm clock, which indicated one thirty-two¡­ What a coincidence? I thought. It stopped precisely at the last moment I looked at it, down to the second. But right before choking it to a malfunction or a battery problem, I noticed that something else had drastically changed. The storm¡­ Went dead quiet, all that ruckus only moments before¡­ Was no more. I got up and walked my way to the window. I felt as though I¡¯d forgotten to blink, so much so that my eyeballs became more and more sensitive in their sockets. Everything looked dead, not a single breeze blew by to shake the leaves on any tree outside, as feeble as one may be. It was hard to think that, only minutes before, those same trees were struggling to remain stuck in the ground by their roots, but by then, nothing was moving at all.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The next day, I opened my eyes only to be greeted firstly by a strong burst of light protruding through my window, then came the sight of my alarm clock. It was six thirty o¡¯clock in the morning, it looked like the perfect day to wear some bright clothes. I had this warm and fuzzy feeling in me I couldn¡¯t shake, nor could I explain it for that matter, wondering if what happened the night before was anything but a dream. Though the sun was calling for me, I felt like I could accomplish so much, like I had the energy to. My mother seemed to think it was odd for me to act so¡­ For lack of better words, I¡¯d say, up? I didn¡¯t mind, I just kissed her goodbye and left for school. My friends did point that out as well. They said that there was something different about me, and even though part of me agreed with them, the rest of me couldn¡¯t help but be inexplicably happy and excited to be alive, to just exist. The only thing that made a dent in my joy was the fact that Alma didn¡¯t show up to school that day. I was a bit concerned about it being related to the rule we broke, but couldn¡¯t be sure. Nighttime came again before I knew it, and as soon as I laid my head on the pillow, I fell into a deep dreamless sleep. All I remember after that was waking up the next morning, unsure of how much time had passed. It felt like I¡¯d closed my eyes and opened them only a few seconds later. The ceiling of my room above my head looked every bit as familiar as always, but something was in the water. Everything was so unnaturally quiet. It was seven o¡¯clock, yet not a single sound, neither from inside our house, nor outside of it. Usually by then, I¡¯d hear my mother moving stuff in the kitchen, birds would be chirping, trees swaying to the will of the wind. But not that morning, it was like nobody but me walked earth, and for some reason the first thing I thought of doing was to uncover the mirror facing me. Starting from the bottom, I lost control over my breathing the moment the very first millimeters of the mirror were uncloaked. I immediately took notice of the fact that my reflection was missing. The rest of my room seemed normal, but I wasn¡¯t there. I mean I was¡­ But not my reflection. The more of the mirror was revealed, the clearer I saw. My reflection wasn¡¯t in front of me, because it was busy. Busy rummaging through my wardrobe. Picking clothing items up, looking at them for a moment then tossing them behind me¡­ I mean my reflection. I seemed so happy, so upbeat, so ready to live. But then something else called for my attention. In the reflection of my room, a bird sat at the window, chirping happily. The trees were moving with the winds as well. Only when I turned to look at my window¡­ There was nothing. Pure lifelessness... It felt like I was staring at a still realistic painting of the view from my window. I was so deep within my own thoughts. I was at such a loss of words, that I barely noted the movements of my reflection. When I finally came to, it was already standing in front of the mirror, facing me. It seemed like it had picked its outfit for the day, but then it stopped and stared me down to my core. Its¡­ My face displayed the coldest and most sadistic of looks. A gaze I never thought my face capable of expressing. That thing knew I was there. Its lips curled upwards into a smile that was every bit as terrifying as the stare it gave me before. It enjoyed my anguish. I was sure of it but¡­ Why? ¡°Hello? Can you hear me?¡± my mother¡¯s voice brought me out of my trance. It took me a few seconds to finally realize that I was at the kitchen table, my mothers¡¯ eyes on me, craving answers and perhaps reassurances. ¡±What?¡± I asked. ¡°I said; I thought you liked muffins, or did your tastes change again?¡± she said. I was way too preoccupied by how I¡¯d gotten down to the kitchen from my room, to think about muffins, "How did I get here?¡± I asked. ¡°Are you ok?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­,¡± I didn¡¯t want to press, at the risk of coming across as a lunatic, in front of my own mom¡­ I didn¡¯t want to scare her any more than I already had. I understand now how I must¡¯ve looked, but back then I thought I was losing my mind. Completely unable to remember a thing from what had happened before the kitchen, except the reflection thing¡­ It was all blank. In fact, I don¡¯t remember much of what had happened after that either. Just a few images of the rest of the day flashing back now and then. I wanted to go by Alma¡¯s house and check on her, but I don¡¯t even recall what occurred after that, and nothing else at all to be fair. The night came along before I could comprehend any of it. Odd how my bed had always felt more comfortable than it did that night. No matter how much I tried, I couldn¡¯t get my muscles to relax, and my feet wouldn''t stop shaking. But as soon as I¡¯d closed my eyes, darkness claimed me entirely, dipping me into a pool of new sensations. First, I felt scorching heat around my figure. The temperature had risen exponentially in the matter of seconds, then I felt the stifling of my breath, like I was in the middle of a blistering fire, coughing my lungs out with every whiff of smoke inhaled. My body sore all over, and my muscles refusing to obey me, I couldn¡¯t move form¡­ Wherever I was. ¡°Agatha! Agatha! You need to get up, I can¡¯t carry you out, please!¡± I somehow recognized that voice. It belonged to someone dear to me. I couldn¡¯t remember her name just yet. My brain wasn¡¯t being supplied with the right amount of oxygen, ¡±Please, stand up! We need to go to our sisters, they are waiting for us, we¡¯ll be safe there,¡± she spoke again. My eyes hardly but finally fluttered open. Everything around me was so bright and orange¡­ A fire, the house was on fire, but then I laid eyes on her, the woman that had spoken to me. I knew who she was, if only I could recall her name. She did her best to pull me on my feet and began to haul me out of harm''s way. My face came a lot closer to hers so, I was able to take a better look at her traits, "What is happening?¡± I managed to ask. ¡°It is all alright, do not worry yourself with that, we will be with our sisters very soon. Be brave for me Agatha,¡± she uttered all the while dragging my carcass along with her. It was then that my lips moved to speak words that were far beyond my capacity to grasp, "Agnes? Why is this happening to us?¡± And it was then that tears streamed down my face, as though I understood the pain of whoever Agatha could be, as though I felt it with every fiber of my being. Agony, sorrow and so much hate, like I knew the reason we were dressed in those outfits that belonged in the medieval era without understanding, like I knew the reason I was trapped in a house on fire. ¡°Nothing will happen to you, I promise you that you will be safe with me sister,¡± she said again. I believed Agnes. I trusted Agnes with my life. I was ready to leave it between her hands, but why was that? No way for me to tell. I woke up in a cold sweat the next morning. I¡¯d cried my eyes out in my sleep, and most of all, I remembered every moment from my dream so vividly, I could still feel the pain of being in it. But at the very least, I was relieved to find that my room was normal, even after I¡¯d uncovered the mirror. Well, I was relieved at first, until I looked out the window. Alma was standing there almost as though she was expecting me to do exactly what I did. I ran out to meet her. I hadn¡¯t seen her in a while. She looked radiant. Everything about her did, her smile, her energy and her attitude... She was happy about something, I couldn¡¯t figure out, so I asked, ¡°Alma, what is it?¡± She didn¡¯t say a thing. She just gaped at me; her smile didn¡¯t leave her lips for a second. I thought my words over again in my head, and for some reason I decided to call her by a different name, ¡°Agnes?¡± ¡°The process is complete, I think you are ready to join us now,¡± she said. ¡°What process? Who are you? Join you where?¡± I panicked. Why was Alma responding to the name of the woman from my dream? ¡°You¡¯ll see that very soon, sister,¡± she added. I don¡¯t remember much of what happened after that, and that¡¯s precisely why I am writing this. I don¡¯t know when I am me, and when I am her¡­ Agatha, I mean. I can hear her thoughts getting louder and louder in the back of my mind. She is growing stronger with every day that goes by. I am not sure for how long I¡¯ll remain the owner of my own body. I am withering away as she¡¯s taking over. I just hope that, when all is said and done, someone will get to read my tale and¡­ Who knows? Maybe it¡¯ll turn out to be helpful. If anyone is reading this, in GrayBird town, always stick to the rules, and whatever you do, don¡¯t ever look at a mirror after sunset, for you will literally lose yourself to it. Solari’s rules ¡°Emily?¡± And just like that, Solari¡¯s book shop had its first visitor that Sunday morning. He called the shop keeper¡¯s name as he heard the little doorbell sound for the second time when the door closed behind him. Emily¡¯s usual spot near the entrance was void, she was nowhere to be seen, so he called for her once again, ¡°Emily? You there?¡± No response. Seth walked further into the shop, paying attention to his steps. He didn¡¯t want to accidentally kick one of the numerous piles of books stacked on top of each other on the floor. His visits there held a special place in his heart. He liked the fact that no matter how many books from those shelves he was able to read, he¡¯d never live long enough to finish all of them; while that feeling would alienate many, Seth reveled in it. He enjoyed the sometimes-long discussions he¡¯d have with Emily over various topics, loved that, no matter what their outcome was, he¡¯d always walk away from those talks with something new, a new perspective. There was something about that library, browsing through its crowded shelves and navigating between its narrow aisles, taking in the scent of its old books gave him a singular feeling, there were simply not enough words to describe it and do it justice. One thing appeared to be missing that morning though. He was accustomed to hearing Emily as she flipped through the pages of a book she chose, hearing the sound of her pen scraping against the papers as she took notes while reading. It made a considerable difference; he couldn¡¯t simply ignore it. But then again, Seth was presented with a chance that would probably never offer itself again, a chance to see more than what he was usually allowed to in that place. Thing was, while he stuck around because he enjoyed his time with Emily, and the amazing stories and informations he was able to reap throughout three years worth of visits to that shop, his very first visit was anything but a coincidence or a simple desire to buy or borrow a book. No, his action was deliberate, when he¡¯d heard about Emily and her obligations towards the GrayBird town¡¯s main book shop. Seth decided that he craved more on that subject, but nowhere could he find someone to satiate his hunger for ...More. That was until he had the brilliant idea to just talk to Emily herself. ¡°Seth? You came,¡± Emily¡¯s voice yanked him out of his thoughts. ¡°Yes, of course,¡± he said, noting that she¡¯d stepped right out of a door that, until that moment, had remained hidden from his knowledge. ¡°You never visit on Sundays,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s a first time for everything, I guess,¡± ¡°Hopefully not everything,¡± she put emphasis on the word ¡°everything¡±, seemingly concerned about his last statement. Not every experience was worth living after all, not in the world they lived in anyways, and especially not in GrayBird town. ¡°I¡­ Never knew that there was a door right there,¡± he¡¯d finally plucked up the courage to address the matter he had in mind at that moment. ¡°That is because I didn¡¯t want you to know about it. Now that you know, I¡¯ll trust you to keep its secret,¡± Emily had always been a sweet soul to anyone that walked into the shop, but she was assertive and straight forward, especially with those she was accustomed to. ¡°Yes, sure,¡± he said. ¡°So, what brought you in today?¡± she asked before he could say anything else, her usual smile apparent on her lips. ¡°Well, nothing really, I was just hoping¡­ That I could talk to you,¡± He was again more careful with his words, and she visibly picked up on that as her eyes narrowed upon hearing them, "You haven¡¯t given up on that?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I can,¡± he said, his eyes on the ground. ¡°Wait here,¡± she said after a moment of consideration, then she walked past him. He saw her approaching the front door and locking it with a swift turn of her hand, before flipping the sign from open over to the closed side. Then he watched as she walked back towards him to say, ¡°Follow me,¡± She didn¡¯t stop, Emily headed in the mysterious door¡¯s direction, and Seth accepted her invitation. As soon as he walked through the door, a chill ran down his spine. His senses screamed at him to run, and his heart¡¯s pace accelerated. ¡°Ignore it,¡± Emily said calmly. In a way, her acknowledging his state comforted him, it made him feel as though what he was going through was normal. Either that or he just looked so pathetic that she needed to touch on it. But the further they went, the heavier the air in his lungs became. Seth thought he was going insane when he¡¯d started hearing voices murmuring around, inside, at the very back of his skull; warnings, insults, name callings he wasn¡¯t very sure he knew the meanings of. He was overtaken by the sudden inkling that something terrible was going to happen to him if he kept on going. In the end, Seth did as he was told and followed Emily through that long, slender hallway. Along the way, he had the impression that they were going down as they walked. That idea was soon after replaced by pure amazement at what his eyes caught sight of, once that corridor traversed. He was mesmerized by the sheer size of that space. Seth could tell how immense it was, for he was standing at the top of a staircase. He descended behind Emily, wondering at how many feet underground they were, or if anyone in GrayBird other than Emily knew about that place. Once they reached the lowest level they could, he noted how much more spacious the aisles were, and how bigger the shelves were and mostly¡­ How much older the books and documents present there looked.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Emily guided him towards a small table surrounded by three, seemingly, old sofas. She sat first then observed Seth as his knees bent slowly to let him rest his weight on the seat behind him. Her lips drew a soft smile on her face. She found the fact that his head couldn¡¯t decide which side of the room to face quite entertaining. He appeared to barely have blinked for a long while, like he was afraid to miss details as he looked around. But mostly, she thought his amazement was fascinating, his reaction to a place she was so used to, or perhaps he simply reminded her of herself, the very first time she¡¯d set foot there. ¡°Does anybody else know about this place?¡± Seth brought her out of her contemplations. ¡°No, just me, and now you,¡± she said. ¡°Earlier you told me to ignore it, you meant what I was hearing when we were walking? I still hear them by the way,¡± ¡°That¡¯s because you don¡¯t belong here. I heard them too, the first time I came here, back then the shop wasn¡¯t on my name yet, but my father thought it was time for me to¡­Sort of get acquainted with it,¡± said Emily. ¡°How old were you?¡± asked Seth. He was on the edge of his seat. On one hand he couldn¡¯t wait to know more, but on the other he was worried of the changes it¡¯ll all bring along¡­The effects of it all. ¡°I was fifteen,¡± she paused for a few seconds then continued before he could say anything, "Are you sure you want to know? There is no going back, knowing what I know has consequences. Are you sure you¡¯ll be able to live with whatever comes after?¡± Seth was stuck for a moment. He felt exposed before her eyes, like she could read through his soul with such ease, just as she does with a book. However, waiting longer was inimaginable. It wasn¡¯t like he couldn¡¯t live without it so, perhaps that was a sign of immaturity from him after all, but¡­It mattered not. He was finally going to get the answers he most wanted for years, "Three years ago, you told me I was too young to understand. Granted I am still young, but I think it¡¯s been long enough,¡± he said finally. Emily looked at him, still amused, but admirative of his determination. He sure did come a long way from the thirteen year old boy that had stumbled into her shop three years prior. Her smile was instantaneously wiped, soon to be replaced by a serious expression, ¡±Tell me Seth; what are some of the rules you''ve learned to follow in this town?¡± ¡°Well, I know to never look in a mirror after sunset. I know to stay home on Christmas eve¡­ I know that if I ever hear inhumane sounds in the middle of the night, I should never go out to investigate, and I know that if I ever see Jack in the corner¡­Well, that I am basically screwed,¡± he stated. ¡°You know a few among many, I see. What do you think of all these rules? Do you follow them? Do you believe in them at all?¡± Emily asked. ¡°To be frank I prefer to understand things. I have so many questions about the rules, but considering we don¡¯t have many if any visitors from outside the town and¡­ The fact that I don¡¯t know anybody that managed to leave town, I chose to just follow them,¡± ¡°Do you know why the inhabitants of this town must follow these rules? Better question yet, do you have any idea where all these rules came from?¡± Seth gulped involuntarily upon hearing that question. He desired the answer to that more than anything. Was he going to get it on that Sunday as well? He could barely sit in place, ¡±No, but I¡¯d like to. Why are you asking that? Do you have an idea about it?¡± ¡°Of course. In fact, I know the origin of each and every rule of this cursed town. The entire history of GrayBird is documented in the pages of all these books you see down here,¡± Emily admitted. His lips parted to potentially let his thoughts out, but when Emily judged him to be too stunned by her words to be able to, she continued, ¡±Have you heard about the curse of the Rezniks?¡± she asked. ¡°Yes. In GrayBird, the bell of the old church must ring at exactly nine o¡¯clock, on the last Friday of every month, and it must be done and only done by a member of the Reznik family. Are you saying it¡¯s like that for your family and this shop?¡± he finally managed to say. ¡°My name is Emily Bane and for that alone I am, for as long as I live, condemned to care for this place and abide by its rules. My ancestors did the same before me. The library has existed for a few centuries now and all the tales, all the phenomena that occur around this town, have their stories told in detail, transcribed down to the nitty gritty of them and found a place to hide here,¡± Emily noted the look of pure shock on Seth¡¯s face. She felt sorry that from then onwards he¡¯d have to share the burden of that knowledge alongside her. Not that she¡¯d decline the company, she was so lonely between those walls, for nobody to hear her pleas, no one to understand her struggle. But still, it wasn¡¯t his weight to carry, not his battle to fight, yet there they were¡­ ¡°But why keep them hidden? Why not tell everyone about this? It could change so many lives¡­ Save so many lives. Why all the torments? Unless¡­,¡± he paused, looking at Emily¡¯s expressionless face, something suddenly dawned on him, "Unless it¡¯s the goal, and these happenings exist in this town for the sole purpose of punishing the people. Earlier when you spoke about the Rezniks, you said something about it being a curse. So, you¡­,¡± Seth was sharp, Emily thought it was a quality about him that might just take him places or even save his life someday, ¡±Yes, what my family has is a curse, not a gift, you guessed that right. Rule number one says that this archive room or whatever you chose to call it, must be kept by a member of the bane family. Meaning the property must be owned by a bane at all times. The second rule states that all and any document in this chamber must always and forever remain confined here, never to be taken off the property. Rule number three was what I consider a courtesy grant, because it says that the keeper, meaning me, has the right to confide about this place to a person of their choice, in this case you. However, that courtesy does not extend to the person entrusted. Meaning you can never tell a soul about this. Then for rule four. If you ever come in and notice that some books have changed place and not by your hand, just put them back where they belonged. Do not ask questions. Rule number five. There is a register that contains a complete list of all the books and documents in here. So, if you find that a book was added to that list, just ignore it and go about your day, do not even ask questions. For rule six. It is a bit derived from the previous rule. If you find out that a book has disappeared from the library, do not freak out, nothing will happen. So, ignore it, it will reappear again. It only matters if the keeper takes something out of here. Rule seven. If you enter this space and see someone that you don¡¯t know, or even someone that you know, do not be scared but mainly, do not try to talk to them. Act like they¡¯re not even there, they won¡¯t hurt you, if you don¡¯t bother them that is. Rule eight, same way if you are already here, reading a book. If anyone comes to you and asks to take what you¡¯re reading from you, do not question it and do not hesitate, just give it to them. No matter if they sound nice or if they were total assholes to you when they spoke. Rule nine. Do not eat or drink a thing while you¡¯re in here no matter how good it smells or how tasty it looks and do not bring any foods or drinks with you either. And finally, rule ten. Whatever you do, never and I mean never fall asleep in here. These are the rules I follow all day, everyday in here, now you know why I asked you to keep the secret,¡± Seth didn¡¯t wait a second to blurt his thoughts and questions out, ¡±Yes, that I understood but, is there an explanation for these rules? An origin to them?¡± ¡°Of course there is, but I thought you wanted to find them out on your own time. I mean these books aren¡¯t going to read themselves. Unless, you¡¯re not planning on coming back here?¡± ¡°No! No, of course I want to come back! Can I come back? Do these books say what would happen if one broke these rules?¡± Seth was speaking fast; it was as though he feared his time would run out and that he wouldn¡¯t get the chance to ask all of the questions he had for Emily. ¡°Of course you can, and yes, they do. So, as long as you follow the rules, you¡¯ll be welcomed to consume the content of these pages with no limits,¡± she said. ¡°Say, Emily, can I ask¡­ I mean I was looking for a bit of a job or an occupation these days and I was wondering if¡­¡± ¡°If you could work here?¡± Emily said after a gentle laugh at his nervousness. ¡°Well, yes pretty much,¡± he answered, a bit worried about the answer he was going to hear. ¡°Yes, I think I can afford to have an employee here, and lord knows the loneliness could drive me insane any day now,¡± Farewell GrayBird town Those of us who¡¯d been ¡°blessed¡± with the gift of being born in GrayBird town know. Our parents taught us from a very young age, just like their parents did before them. They told us that there was only one way into GrayBird town and one way out of it, but nobody ever knows of anyone who¡¯d managed to use that path, not successfully at least. ¡°Don¡¯t look at a mirror after dark in GrayBird town!¡± they said. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever leave a door unlocked on Hallow¡¯s eve!¡± they said. ¡°Don¡¯t leave your home on Christmas eve!¡± they repeated. They said many, many things to be off limits, yet I crossed all the lines. I broke all and any rumor of a rule to ever reach my ears and¡­ Nothing, I am still alive and kicking, despite my own self, I guess. No, I didn¡¯t want to die, I wanted to live. No, I didn¡¯t want to live, I wanted to leave. With every fiber of my being, I wanted to finally put that place to rest, in a sealed box, buried in one of the deepest crannies of my mind, as memories to never call for again. I didn''t really care as long as I got to leave and forget all about GrayBird town, even for the shortest of whiles. GrayBird town, my hometown, took everything from me, everyone I¡¯d ever loved, anyone I¡¯d ever cared about. I still don¡¯t understand though, why won¡¯t it take me? I knowingly and voluntarily broke all of the rules. Well, maybe not all of them. The cardinal sin remained. The capital offense that the populace shivered at upon mention. The act of actually leaving GrayBird town. I¡¯d heard countless stories and counts of people trying to move out of this town and paying the price for that with their lives. I didn¡¯t need proof of their veracity since my own father died after he attempted to escape. I hated him for years after that, for abandoning us, me and my mother. Now I understand him, his actions. Nevertheless, the loss of my father was how I got to meet Leonard, the guardian of the town¡¯s entrance. People saw him as a hero for literally volunteering his life away, spending his days trying to stop people and prevent them from doing anything ¡°stupid¡±. He was basically saving people¡¯s lives, but to what end? It¡¯s not like they were destined to accomplish much in this place. I didn¡¯t know about being a hero, but I considered Leonard a friend, sort of¡­ I remember dragging my feet all the way to the town¡¯s entrance that night. Like many other nights before it. Leonard was on his shift. Only when I got there, he wasn¡¯t sitting on his little chair as usual. He was standing far from it, far past the town¡¯s welcome sign. He seemed stiff and still, like he''d been paralyzed by something invisible to the human eye. I walked towards him, slowly at first, but then I broke into a sprint, afraid he¡¯d finally lost it. After so many years of stopping people from dying, and worse, having to watch some of them die anyways, he¡¯d finally broke. I thought he was about to do what he¡¯d worked so hard to prevent people from doing. Most of all, I couldn¡¯t admit it then, but I didn¡¯t want to lose him as well, he was my only friend, my last remaining one... But the closer I got to him, the clearer I saw the scene in front of him. He wasn¡¯t trying to leave, he was standing over four static bodies, lying unmoved on the cold ground. For a moment, I felt relieved, as cold and callous as that may have sounded, I cared more for his life than that of any other. That being said, I wasn¡¯t happy about that carnage either. The street light above our heads flickered and brought me out of my contemplations. It was hard to determine or visualize what really happened to them just by looking at them. We stood in pure silence for a moment before I decided to finally break it, "Did you report it?¡± For some reason, he ignored my question and proceeded to say something irrelevant to it, "Those two dropped first,¡± he motioned towards two of the bodies, then he continued, "This one said he couldn¡¯t take it anymore, he took a blade to his own throat,¡± he pointed towards another body. That explained how his throat had been slit open, why his body was swimming in a pool of his own blood, and why the knife was still in one of his hands. Leonard turned towards the last body, "She said the snakes were everywhere, and that they were eating her,¡± his voice was monotone. One could¡¯ve mistaken his tone for indifference or calmness, but I knew Leonard. I knew his sanity was hanging by nothing but a thin thread. He didn¡¯t have many words left, nor did he have facial expressions to spare for that matter. ¡°Did you see any snakes?¡± I asked. ¡°None, not one,¡± he said. I moved closer towards her body. I didn¡¯t recognize her at first under those dim lights, but then it hit me. I knew that young woman. She was a waitress in one of the town¡¯s cafes. The longer I inspected her face the more wrong it looked. I hadn¡¯t noticed it at first, how twisted and wrenched out of the beautiful shape it originally held. I couldn¡¯t effectively discern any colors in the darkness of the night, but I could tell her lips were drained of blood at the moment of her death. And then there were her words about snakes¡­If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The other faces weren¡¯t that far off from looking the same, with the exception of the one that took his own life, "What did it look like? What did you see?¡± I could¡¯ve sworn I saw a hint of surprise in Leonard¡¯s face after my questions. I realized then how unhinged I may have come across. ¡°They stopped the moment they walked beyond the sign; I could see their silhouettes struggling to stand, shaking from head to toe. As I was running closer, I could hear them hyperventilate, then scream, before what I already told you happened,¡± ¡°You couldn¡¯t stop them?¡± I quizzed. ¡°I needed to take a piss. I guess they were watching me, waiting for the perfect moment,¡± he tried to hide it, but his vocal cords were strained, his guilt must have been grand. ¡°It¡¯s not like you could have stopped all of them anyways, this isn¡¯t a job for one man,¡± I wasn¡¯t throwing empty words just to comfort him, I meant exactly what I said. But no matter, he just hung his head low after that. Another painful moment of silence followed, one that I took upon myself to break again, "So, it¡¯s true. People see their worst fears take physical shape when they get closer to the town¡¯s exit. But¡­ I always wondered, why doesn¡¯t it work on you?¡± ¡°It does work on me, just like it does with any other. Getting closer to the sign isn¡¯t the issue, it¡¯s the intention of leaving that triggers it. I do my best to curb those intentions when I do my job, ¡± he said. ¡°Leonard, what¡¯s your worst fear ?¡± I didn¡¯t know why I chose that moment to ask him that, but I did. ¡°I¡¯d rather keep that to myself,¡± he said. ¡°What does it feel like, to try and leave?¡± ¡°First you feel cold, then comes a nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. It grows, and keeps on growing, until your knees become too weak to hold your body weight. Your breathing escapes your control. Your lungs fight for air and then, you see it¡­ The thing that haunts your nightmares. The further you stray away from the exit the more intense it gets. I never pushed past this point, personally,¡± he explained, his eyes on the welcome sign all the way. ¡°Did you ever try to curb your intentions as you walked closer to the sign, and then just kept on going without thinking about leaving?¡± I was curious to know if it was truly as impossible as everyone puts it, or if there was a sliver of hope to be held. ¡°I¡¯ve been working this job for over ten years, so what do you think?¡± I didn¡¯t say a thing after his words. Cue the good old deafening silence. This time however, I didn¡¯t need to break it, Leonard spoke first, "I know for a fact that you consider leaving this place more than anyone, I see it in your eyes every time you come here. The way you gape at the welcome sign. You asked me what it felt like to try and leave, are you saying you¡¯ve never felt it?¡± ¡°Well, I definitely felt fear before. But if I were to rank my feelings on a scale when I come here to see you, I¡¯d say despair usually takes the cake, no offense,¡± I said. ¡°None taken,¡± he said, but he seemed distant, absent. ¡°Hey, is there a reason you haven¡¯t reported this yet?¡± it was like something hit me out of nowhere. Leonard didn¡¯t inform the authorities of what had happened yet. He remained quiet, giving me a dubious look, something I never saw on him before. I wanted to ask what he was so skeptical about, but he beat me to the line, ¡±I wouldn¡¯t try to stop you if you tried now, you know?¡± ¡°What?¡± baffled, I couldn¡¯t even line my words up properly, I thought I misunderstood. Surely, he couldn¡¯t have meant what I thought he did? ¡°If you tried to leave now, I wouldn¡¯t try to stop you,¡± he clarified. ¡°I guess it¡¯s a nice way of telling someone to drop dead but¡­ What earned me that pleasure?¡± I said. ¡°I think¡­ You can do it kid¡­,¡± it was clear that those words were hard for him to say. Regardless, I wanted to have that experience, at least once. I broke every rule I could think of in GrayBird, except that one. Would I brave through it like I did every other? Or would it be the last straw on my apparently conflicted luck? My feet took the initiative before I could consciously think of moving. As I was walking forward, I began to feel something I couldn¡¯t yet describe, not then anyways. I didn¡¯t stop. I pushed ahead, wondering about when I''d get to see the object of my nightmares, my deepest fear, my most present phobia. When would it materialize and take physical shape? When would the walls come and close around me, suffocating me slowly but cruelly? Something warm came to tickle my skin. My eyes darted towards its source; the first rays of sunlight for that day¡­ I was already three feet past the town¡¯s welcome sign, and nothing came¡­ I walked more after that... Four feet, five feet, six feet and so on and so forth¡­ I had done it; I crossed the final line of GrayBird town. I turned around only to catch sight of Leonard, or at least I thought it was him, I don¡¯t ever remember seeing that expression on his face. It was as though he was watching the sunrise for the first time in his life. I thought I saw the world behind me reflecting in his tears. I wanted to go back, hold him in my arms, cry with him, celebrate the emotions we¡¯d recovered, those we weren¡¯t able to dream of feeling for so long, but I was also afraid, terrified that it was a onetime trick, that if I went back in there, I would never be able to leave it again. ¡°Hey kid!¡± Leonard called for my attention as I was drowning in my thoughts, "Fear of heights! That¡¯s¡­My worst fear,¡± he said. I just stood there looking at him, unsure of what to do next, I ¡­, ¡°Go! Run!¡± he screamed, and I did just that, I ran like hell. Along the way, I didn¡¯t see a thing. There was nothing on the way to GrayBird town. Nothing had tried to stop or attack me. I ran until I could walk, then I walked until I could rest, then I rested until I could live again. A clean slate offered itself to me. I rediscovered life all over again. There were things out there that I really loved, and things that I grew to despise, things to not care about were there too. To this day, I think back to GrayBird town, I didn¡¯t forget all about it like I thought I would if I ever managed to leave. I didn¡¯t feel the desire to throw up anytime I recalled it. I think back about Leonard, wondering how his life has turned after my departure, and how much about him has changed. I miss him, but¡­ I am not ready to go back there just yet. Someday I¡¯ll gather up the courage to try and venture back into my hometown. Perhaps, there is something to accomplish there after all.