Young Writers Society

The group packed behind Bug’s short stature. He held a small, yellowed ID card.

Akuji Abara,

Grade 11

2001-2002

The young woman’s eyes were scribbled out in aggressive streaks of black marker. She wore a loose, plain shirt and her hair was pulled into a sleek bun. Her broad smile irked Mateo the most.

“What a weird name. It kinda sounds like something out of a movie,” said Em softly.

“Mind if I see it?” The vial spun around Lee’s finger as he outstretched his free hand. Bug passed it over to him and Lee scanned the card multiple times with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m pretty sure this place shut down in 2005, so somehow this would’ve gone without anyone noticing for three years,” Bug added.

Em’s eyes flashed with an urgent intensity.

“Three years? How the hell was this not f-found for three years, even when the school was still open?”

Bug shrugged, his face cracking into a sly smile. “Maybe I could find out.”

Mateo began to feel awkward for not speaking. He was so engrossed in the mystery and what they said that he couldn’t think of anything to say. Lee handed the card back to Bug with a puzzled look.

“Maybe she still lives here,” piped up Yasmin.

“Or she’s dead.” Em’s words cut through the tense air like knives.

“That’d be a blessing, this shit’s too weird,” Mateo added, “Actually maybe it wouldn’t, since this place is supposed to be haunted and all.” Grime stuck to the tips of Bug’s fingers as he swept over it. Bug pocketed the card to everyone’s obvious dismay.

The floor rippled suddenly under Mateo’s feet and swelled into a contorting mass of raw power. It pulsated like the heartbeat of a crazed, vengeful killer. Just as he felt unable to stand on his own two feet, the pressure melted. He looked to see if anyone’s expression had changed, yet they looked normal as ever.

“Are you gonna do what I think you’re gonna do?”

“I just wanna keep it to see if she’s still alive, that’s all. Then I’ll just throw it away.”Mateo could recognize the voices as Em’s and Bug’s, though his body felt separate from his surroundings. He could still register their faces as their own, and the different ways they spoke. It were if an outsider from this universe had thrown an object that wasn’t meant to be here; just enough to feel unsettling but not enough to be a disturbance.

“Agh, shit!” seethed Lee’s voice.

Mateo’s soul came flying back into his body at the loud interruption. The vial of blood went rolling across the floor and stopped at Mateo’s shoes.

“What? What the hell happened?” Em asked.

“That blood thing heated up all of a sudden, like I touched a hot stove.” Lee held his balled up hand close to his chest. Everyone else remained quiet as Em spoke again.

“Did it burn you?”

Lee unfolded his hand, showing the fingers he favored. A raised, fiery welt rose among a patch of inflamed skin. His other fingers were irritated in the same place, yet not as bad as his index finger.

“But there’s nothing there.” She seemed annoyed, as if he were exaggerating.

Mateo nearly opened his mouth in protest. You're becoming just like your Mom, whispered his mind's voice. Mateo felt nothing, as though he had already accepted it.

“Yeah, I know. You can pick it up and touch it yourself if you think I’m lying, I swear to God.”

Em shrugged. “Alright, bet.” She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and bent over, picking the vial up between two fingers.“I don’t--Agh!” She withdrew her hand quickly. The angered look on her face made Mateo curious to touch it himself, though the image of the welt on Lee’s finger held him back.“I think we all believe you!” butted in Yasmin. Mateo no longer ignored his urge to kick the vial away and it went skittering to the opposite side of the room. Bug had already returned to kicking around boxes and looking underneath pieces of trash.

Mateo’s quick glances at his finger stopped as soon as Lee stuck his hand in his pocket.

Shit! Did he see me?

“Hm, all I’m finding is more junk.” Disappointment lingered in Bug’s voice.

Mateo figured that Yasmin orchestrated the entire meetup and that Bug’s excitement caused everyone else to go. Mateo wanted to allow the words he’d been wanting to say all this time burst out of his mouth. The eye, that book, the welt he could see on Lee’s hand, even how the ground moved underneath him. Yet he knew that all he could do was hang around them as much as possible. 

“Hey, hey! I found something else here!” exclaimed Bug.

“I don’t see anything though,” said Em.

Bug kicked away some boxes and stood backward, his flashlight pointing valiantly at the floor. A large circle painted in red extended into branches of lines, stars, and dots. The detail was so intricate that it was almost alarming.

“Is that a pentagram?” asked Lee.

“No dumbass, a pentagram has a star inside of it, not all of this stuff. You should know these things after all, you’re a metalhead.”

“Jeeeez, alright Em you’re so harsh,” he said with a snort. Mateo could hear their voices behind him, yet Yasmin and Bug stood by him. It seemed as though they were always invested in some separate conversation. He couldn’t seem to draw his focus away from the sigil.

“Mm, kinda looks like those are arrows interconnecting in the middle and coming out on all four sides. But then they have those weird little arches on the ends of them too…” Yasmin spoke quietly.

“Well it’s definitely not anything biblical, probably the opposite actually,” Bug spoke as he pulled out the vial from his pocket.

“Maybe it’s to summon a demon,” Mateo added.

“Yeah, and…”, Bug raised his hand in the air, “maybe made out of the same liquid as what’s in the vial.” The silver chain wrapped around his fingers and the vial swung suspended in the air.

Mateo furrowed his eyebrows. He had sworn he kicked it away earlier. I guess he picked it up when I wasn't looking.

Bug’s yelp shot Mateo’s attention fully back. The vial went clattering to the ground and the ground surged beneath him. The symbol collapsed into a sinkhole and from it frothed a cluster of red that funneled from its gory cavity. Bug’s face was completely unresponsive, but even so Mateo couldn’t look for long.  Em and Lee’s voices floated somewhere in the room, as if they hadn’t seen anything at all.

Mateo leaned forward, snatching the vial by its chain and swinging it out of a cracked window. A faint shatter could be heard from the streets. The pressure that had drowned Mateo’s ears slowly retreated. Even he was surprised that he had taken any action, rather than just standing there like a useless fool.

“Wooooo! Yeah! Fuck that stupid necklace!” yelled Lee.

His chest heaved wildly. He hadn't thought, only acted. 

Yasmin blankly stared at Mateo, her mouth parted. The wad of unsaid words that bunched in his throat rose in a fit of unrestrained laughter. Eventually it dwindled and an excuse flowed freely to his mind.

“Ah, I’m sorry for throwing it, I just--”

“No, no it’s fine really, it burnt me anyway. Probably was a bad idea to hang it over that, anyway,” Bug spoke quickly. He smiled, yet his eyes didn’t crease.

“Well this is the pastor’s place after all, y’know there’s probably some edgy kids who hate the church. They probably thought it’d be a funny prank.” Em appeared to be completely confident in her words. Even the way she stood seemed nonchalant.

“Well I’m glad I never went to bible lessons here. I really wasn’t missing out on anything,” said Bug with a grin.

“Can we just get out of this room already?” said Yasmin. She had pulled her green, curly hair into a ponytail and her face glistened with beads of sweat.

Mateo followed after them mindlessly through the corridors and rooms. Their conversations were soothingly normal. They spoke about classes and all the homework they hadn’t done, of the history of this old school, and scattered rumors going around. The glamour of the school’s hauntedness dissolved the more they wandered around aimlessly. Their words filled up the emptiness.

The present was overwhelmingly in front of him. Subconsciously Mateo knew that his memories would return and he would have to face the book in his room. The pang of his heart wished that he could keep the simplicity of his friends’ words forever. Eventually Bug left because of curfew, and Yasmin after him. He knew that their time together was ending. Coincidentally Mateo was left with the two he wasn’t as close to.

“Hey, do either of you know what time it is?” Lee spoke up. When it was clear Em wasn’t going to answer, Mateo talked instead.

“It just turned eight,” he said as his phone’s blue screen lit up his face.

“Ah, shit! My shift starts at eight-thirty.” It was the first Mateo ever heard about him getting a job.

“Since when did you get a job?” Mateo asked.

“Uhhh, like a week ago. Anyways I gotta bounce, right now.” He patted his pants down hurriedly and his words were so jumbled they stuck together. Em only looked amused. Lee didn’t even wait for a response. He went striding down the dark halls like a true businessman.

“And where’s it happen to be at?” prodded Em.

“The one and only gas station,” he replied.

The rusted side door came into view and Lee pushed it open. The bland, wide gravel path in front of them and the lone streetlight melted away and contorted into a new scene as the outside air rushed to greet him.

The sight of the wide gravel path and lone streetlight irritated Mateo. Its blandness was a perfect canvas for his imagination of something better. Though he had never seen a city in person, he could always fantasize about what one would look like. The sharp, acrid odor of cigarettes laid out the foundation of his make-believe world. A full moon exposed its golden ribs to the rotten slums and bustling streets. The city was alive with light and throngs of people who were cast in warm colors. He pictured the three of them having just left a cheap, although oddly likable, old-fashion club. The street before them was lined with fancy, oiled cars. The smoke which trailed from their engines was nearly visible.

Couples young and old walked the streets, giggling together or noticeably drunk. The restaurant nearby was upstate and almost nauseating fancy. Mateo could spot Lee staring glances at a young woman sitting at a table nearby alone. She had short, blonde layered hair and stirred the contents of her bloodred wine lost in thought. Her face faded into the background as his imagination finally died down. The enchanting sounds of classical music and the upbeat, chattering voices once again became the low chirp of crickets. He was both thankful and disappointed by the fun environments which his mind presented to him.

Then again, it could have been mockful, showing him something he knew he would likely never see. Lee muttered strings of curses under his breath.

“How ya gonna get there?” Em seemed a bit more sympathetic this time. He already looked somewhat defeated.

“Uhh, well it’s like--,” he paused to think a bit, “five minutes away...or no, that’s in a car. Ten minutes walking, probably…I didn’t even ride my car over here anyway.” His boss must be a real pain in the ass to make him so nervous. It was a rare sight. Or maybe it was because he was lying? Mateo brushed the thought away.

“Me an’ him are gonna go the same way, you think you’ll be fine?” Em scuffled her shoes impatiently in the dirt.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“Cya then.”

Mateo didn’t bother to stay and watch them walk away together. He knew walking to his bike and riding home would also mean having to confront the book in his room. Yet, there’s no other option. He wasn’t sure if he should ride slow or fast. The lone roads were both dull and frightening. He didn’t want to be surrounded by the watchful trees, though even the thought of his house made his stomach turn. Its orange paint harshly stood out amongst the crowd of dark trees.

His heart jumped as the bike’s tires hit a pothole. His lip curled in annoyance. The roads probably weren’t fixed since the founding of Sognore. A slow crawl inched under his spine. It felt as though a centipede were crawling up his bones; its long-legged body fusing with his body. Mateo slowed his bike, planting his right foot on the gravel. With a deep breath, he fanned his shirt, squirming around and swiping his hand across his back. He heard and felt nothing more.

“I should just fucken’ get home...bugs and potholes everywhere…,” Mateo muttered. He hung his head down, his fingers nervously tightening and releasing his bike handles. A sharp, abrupt crack sounded to his left. His pupils darted to the direction of the noise. His heart suddenly seemed to quiet, its beats becoming shallow and anxious. He looked up to meet eyes with a young woman, a third of her face shrouded in the pitch-black darkness. She held something which thrashed desperately in her tight grip.

He quickly looked down to the ground, his heart drumming louder than his frantic thoughts. She's just crazy. She’s just crazy.

And what if she’s hurting an animal? What if she’s killing it? A pang of regret followed him as he wildly took off. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his hands around the bars. Pebbles flew under the bike’s tires as the ride became bumpier. All he knew was fear; an instinctive reaction to feeling hunted, whether real or not. He didn’t try pushing the paranoia down or grabbing ahold of it and wrangling it. It felt uncontrollable. It grabbed him on all sides of his body and mind. It refused to listen to reason.

The blot of his orange house appeared in sight. His legs burned and ached as he spurred on a bit further. In it waited the dread of the unknown, yet he desperately raced towards it.