The Tortured

Cont.

It was a Tuesday, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting elongated shadows that danced eerily as he laughed with friends. Moments later, that laughter was swallowed by a silence so profound it felt as if the world had held its breath. Three figures, cloaked in the mundane disguise of everyday clothing, appeared at the edges of the playground. Their eyes glinted with malice, and before Jon could comprehend the threat, they were upon him. The last thing he heard was his own scream-echoing in a world that had suddenly turned to night.