【Thirty-Nine】

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» "Did he say 'I love you'?" «

*holds my cat up to camera*
*he sniffs ur soul*

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Where the frick am I.

Laying flat on your back, you saw nothing but black. Literally, the sky was pitch black. Sitting up slowly you scanned your surroundings. There was nothing but darkness. Well except the dirt path you were laying on.

With a brow raised, you hesitantly got to your feet. Glancing down at yourself you wrinkled your nose, these clothes most definitely were not yours.

Dirt covered sneakers, tattered and desperately need of a wash forest-green sweat-jacket half-zipped, a stupid cartoony themed graphic t-shirt under it, pretty sure it was a mothman stencil in the middle. And of course jeans with dried mud on them and a belt looped around the waist.

   There was something attached to the belt, lifting it slightly you grimaced. It was a black mask with empty eyeholes. Again dried mud on the side of it. Very bland and most likely not something you would wear as face decor.

Ick.

Dropping it, you clicked your tongue. Deciding there was nothing else to do; you started down the path. It felt pointless since it didn't feel like you were moving anywhere, nothing to differentiate your current spot from the other, but it was better than nothing.

In the distance there was a blob. The closer you got, and the more you squinted you could tell it to be a tree stump. Very odd considering there was nothing else here.

Closing the distance you approached it. A flashlight sat in the middle. Lips pursed, you took it. A complimentary horror game flashlight, wonderful!

There also sat a lighter, it was rusted and the few times you tried to flick it on, it barely even sparked. Still you attached it to your belt.

Finally a butterfly knife. It appeared to be the only "clean" item. With much thought and hesitation, you begrudgingly took it. Snapping it open and closed a few times, before attaching it to your belt.

Taking a step back, you went down the path again. If you turned to look back at the stump, you were met with nothing. It was just gone again.

You kept walking for a while.

A tree came into the distance. It was tall and thin. Like last time, once you were close enough you strayed from the path to go over to it. A piece of paper was stabbed into the bark using a small kitchen knife. Unnerved, you pried it free and awkwardly held the kitchen knife, not having anywhere to put it.

The paper was of a missing person.

The date was scratched out, and so was a majority of the information. A picture of a child took up most the page. A young boy maybe around the age of ten, something about it made you uneasy and your head buzz with familiarity. The last name was ripped off the page; but the first name...the first name.

𝗛𝗲𝘆 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗗𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀Where stories live. Discover now