The Journal 2 - A Short Story Collection

The Little Boy

Every Sunday, the same chores were being done around the house. Among other things, mom cleaned the kitchen, dad mowed the lawn, and I cleaned my room. The only one not doing anything per usual was my five-year-old brother, Dylan. He was probably playing with his toys and making more of a mess.

Being the older sister by three years, I had responsibility for him, at least, that's what my dad always said. I didn't question it though, I enjoyed being able to boss him around. It was fun.

Lately, however, Dylan had been acting differently. Instead of getting upset at me when I told him to do something, he just nodded and did as he was told, without question. I wasn't sure if this was his way of getting back at me, to take away the fun part in ordering him around, but it was working. I hated this obedient version of my brother.

Once I felt that my room was cleaned to my liking, I marched over to my brother's room to see what mess he was creating now. But as I opened the door, I didn't see him anywhere, only the mound of toys in the corner of his room, and drawings scattered on the floor.

I looked at a few, some I recognized of various family members, some of Dylan doing activities he enjoyed, like flower picking at the park. Then there were others I didn't recognize. Several stood out from the rest, but one, in particular, caught my eye. A drawing of Dylan, swaying on the tree swing in our backyard, frowning. Behind him stood a tall, skinny figure that looked like a shadow creeping up on Dylan. It looked as if Dylan knew it was there. But I recall being there too, and there was nothing.

Similar imagery was found on the other disturbing drawings. I only remembered the tree swing one because when I took one look at it, I thought Dylan was just trying to scare me. I never gave it a second glance, nevertheless a second thought. Until now.

My eyes darted around the room, wondering if Dylan was in here, hiding from me.

"Dylan?" I called to him but heard no noise in response. Instead, my eyes wandered onto a small book on Dylan's desk, a pen still inside, holding the most recent entry.

I opened the journal, realizing that it wasn't a typical journal some use to reflect on their day-to-day activities, but rather it was a collection of short stories. I decided to read the last one in the journal.

It was a cold evening. The wind blew the trees. Dogs barked in the distance. People were having dinner.

But not the Little Boy. He was hiding in his closet, hoping to not be caught. He didn't like Hide and Seek, but the Invisible Man insisted he should play. So, the Little Boy hid.

Until he was caught. The Invisible Man laughed. He grabbed the Little Boy, but the Little Boy pleaded for one favor. He wished to finish his story. The Invisible Man was a generous man and set him down on his chair. He told the Little Boy to write the last story for his collection before they left. The Little Boy did as he was told. He knew not to question orders.

The Little Boy wrote the story. Once finished, he looked up at the Invisible Man. The Invisible Man chuckled before taking the Little Boy with him to the forest in the Little Boy's backyard.

It was there where the Little Boy would spend eternity, food for the Invisible Man. It was there the Little Boy would rot away in the cave near the lake. The lake had only one trail that led to it. The trail that only the Little Boy and his sister knew of.

There is no happy ending in this story. Goodbye.

Stunned by what I just read, I re-read the story several more times, having difficulty believing what I was reading. It could very well be a joke, another attempt by Dylan to get back at me. But if it was real...

"Mom? Can I go to Maggie's now?" I asked while I already was putting my shoes on.

"Is your room cleaned?" she questioned in response.

"Yep!"

"Then you may go."

Just as I was about to leave, my mom stopped me to ask, "Dear, is your brother cleaning his room?"

I didn't know what to say to that question other than to lie until I knew the truth. "Yep! But it's a mess so he'll be at it for a while."

"Okay sweetie, go on."

I ran outside and to our backyard, making no hesitation to enter the forest we lived next to. I've been all over the nearby area with my dad over the years that I knew my way around a bit, so I knew exactly where this trail Dylan mentioned was.

But upon reaching it, I felt my body grow colder as the thought of all this being real. The fact I stood on the very trail Dylan mentioned in his story, the same one he was taken on by this Invisible Man, gave me chills. Nevertheless, I pushed forward in a blind hope to find my brother.

The further I followed the trail, the deeper I went into the forest, and the more frightened I became. Though the sun was still out but setting, the thick trees made it darker in this part of the forest. Animal noises I couldn't make out echoed around me and I had to remind myself that nature lived here too, that not everything was monsters.

Although even reassurance only helped a little in the end. My anxiety grew with each step, and I found myself wanting to return home instead. Thoughts of leaving my brother to save myself made me feel both relieved and guilty simultaneously. The guilt is what pressed me forward.

Eventually, I came upon the lake, though not a very large one, and headed towards the huge hill off to the left. It didn't take long for me to be back into the thick forest, running along the hillside, looking for this supposed cave.

I began to question why I was out here again, thinking that Dylan merely sent me out here to play a prank on me and that there was no cave in the end. Just to scare me. It angered me to think about it, but that anger subsided quickly when I discovered a little hole in the hillside.

Barely large enough for myself to fit through on all fours, I meandered around the hole, trying to determine whether going in was the right thing to do. I debated going back to get my parents, maybe send in the police instead of me. But if my brother's story were true, who knew how long he had left.

A scream answered my question suddenly as I plunged myself without thinking into the hole. I wiggled my way through, feeling the wet dirt rub against my skin, and several bugs that I couldn't see crawl around me and over my arms. It made me want to scream, as I hated bugs, but knowing what I was doing, I kept silent, hoping the bugs didn't mind my intrusion into their home.

At the end of the tunnel, I crawled out into a relatively large dirt room, a lantern flickering in the distance. There were bones everywhere, and on top of them... my brother.

"Dylan!" I shouted unconsciously as I sprinted over to him. "Dylan, it's me! I'm here."

But Dylan didn't look pleased, instead, he weakly stared behind me and said, "He knew you'd come."

The blood drained from me making me ice cold as I whipped around to see a tall, skinny silhouette of a man staring back at me. It didn't have feet, but rather floated, and its yellow eyes burned into my mind, planting voices all in my head.

Voices that told me they wanted to play. Voices that told me to stay. Voices that told me to join them.

And I did.

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