𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 || 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟹

"Nope, no way. Cookies first." I announced.

"You've got to be joking. You're more worried about cookies than-"

"You heard me. Cookies first. We'll talk later." I cut her off. We hastily scooped the batter out of the bowl, rolled it into tiny balls, and placed it on a baking sheet (all of which was done in silence, might I add). I lifted the sheet off the counter and nodded in the direction of the oven. Y/f/n opened the oven door for me and I carefully slid the cookies in.

"I'll put something on." I said as I walked toward the TV and retrieved the remote. My parents must've gone to bed early - they're ALWAYS hogging the TV. I turned on Netflix. Stranger Things it is. I walked back over to the kitchen.
"Okay, so, what the fuck? That's insane! Tell me more!" I blurted.

"Was the TV thing really necessary, y/n?"

"Uh, yes, I don't want my parents to hear us. Now tell me," I quickly said.

"So you live in this big, kind of creepy, kind of secluded old house, right? It's like, horror movie perfect. Anyway, I thought to myself 'hey, there's absolutely no way nothing has happened out here - no crazy satanic rituals or murders, or shit' - so I looked it up, and what do you know, I was right! The article I read was posted ten years ago. It's real spooky stuff."

My jaw dropped. Y/f/n looked back down at her phone.

"Oh, and this too! I'm looking at archived articles and this one here says: 'mysterious deaths at local orphanage.' It was published in 1900."

"You've got to be joking."

"Nope, perfectly honest." She turned her phone toward me so I could see the screen. She really wasn't lying, which, you know, is great! Good for me! Of course, I'd be the one to live at the epicenter of some weird shit! I had to take a moment to think; to digest it all.

"So you're implying some murderer lived for over 100 years? I doubt it. That's like, impossible. Can you imagine a 112-year-old waking up one day and being like, 'yup, today is the day. I'm going to kill some kids,' because I sure can't! Nobody even lives to be 112!"

"True. You've got a point," y/f/n observed, "but what if the killer isn't human? What if they're a ghost or something? It could be supernatural."

"Or, hear me out, what if it's purely coincidence," I countered, " you know, same crime committed in the same area, but the different perpetrator."

"There's only one way to find out, y/n." my friend whispered and wriggled her eyebrows at me.

"Not a chance."