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▇▇ WHEN THE NOISES WOULD START, he would feel dread. he would never sleep for weeks. he would not sleep. he wouldn't even eat. something is wrong with him.
there's something wrong with him because the noises have arrived. yet he doesn't react to them. not anymore. not like he used to.
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▇▇ THERE WAS A KID who drowned in the river at the age of fifteen. there was a kid who burned in a fire at sixteen. there was a kid who fell into the sewers and never came back out. there was a kid who said that he saw lights in the sky. they were not stars. there was a kid who said that he saw a lady in his mirror. of course, it was not a lady.
those were the kids who came back. those were the kids your parents told you to stay away from. they aren't dead. at least not anymore. they are flesh and bone, grey eyes and pale skin. they may seem sad, but do not trust them.
they are at his doorstep, asking him for food.
he has a gun held behind the door, where he offers them a small smile. he pulls back the hammer and aims it at the child in the middle.
there is a bit of hesitation.
he lets out a huff of breath and closes his door. the gun gets placed back on the table where it stares at him, taunting him for nearly killing a child.
