Present day. Basement.
With my extra height and bulkier muscles, I am certainly well enough to attend school. But I need to stink less. The smell of the pond clings to me. I have avoided washing all weekend, afraid I'll get sucked down the drain. But my recent experience gives me courage.
I turn on the shower, pulling my hand back before the water hits.
It is at this point that I remember the envelope in my pocket – not that I haven't thought about it before, almost constantly – but I haven't had the courage to face it, to accept that something terrible happened to Christine. To admit I left without helping her.
Or Todd. I'm not forgetting him either.
Anyway, I can't avoid it any longer. If my recovery isn't permanent I might never see what it says, what she knew.
The envelope has mostly disintegrated. The single sheet of paper inside isn't much better. The blue-ink words on front and back have run together like some ancient language. Parts of it have been swept completely clean by moisture.
I can read some of it though. And, I discover that despite my inhuman condition and rugged appearance, my tears are perfectly capable of welling up.
YOU ARE READING
Swamp Monster Love
ParanormalBrian and Christine have never been close. Now that she's disappeared, and he's changing into something monstrous, people are starting to talk. People like the police, for instance. And a strange boy who claims to be Christine's long-dead brother. ...
