The Imaginary

Chapter 3: Madmen are Original Hipsters, They Write Letters Part 3

THE IMAGINARY

CHAPTER THREE: MADMEN ARE ORIGINAL HIPSTERS, THEY WRITE LETTERS

PART 3 (FINAL)

I anticipated more of the sounds before going in. When that was done with, I sat on the couch, then unfolded Sis’s letter slowly.

"This is good," said the chill. I heard flips. Silver was reading the comic. "The wicked forms of human life." I think he meant literature. "Do you have more human text, Jake?"

"I have. In my room. I have my mystery stuff collection."

Guess what? Sis reminded me again to take care of Sarah. She didn’t trust me. A few requests, no, more like commands. She told me to clean the place. She was going home next week because of the Moon Dance. Then, personal stuff. I’d rather not disclose them to you, since they’re, well, personal.

Wow, that was rude. But I was human. There were limitations to what I should be telling you. Imagine this: a total stranger reading the contents of a letter from a family member. Doesn’t it feel weird or creepy? And, yes, this was coming from a stranger who regularly read the contents of a girl’s diary, even watched them happen in actual frames.

"Silver, come check this." He hovered here.

The other letters were abnormal. Each one had a symbol, different to the others, written on the envelope’s body. The content was the chain message, all the same. It read:

They can’t see me. They can’t see my cloak swaying in the chilly night sky. They can’t see my mask smirking. But they can hear me. They hear my laughter echo in the mind. They hear the swish of my glide. And they feel. They feel my soft hiss traveling their skin. They feel the unsheathe of the sharp. They finally see me. And my sharp instantly stabs them. It splatters. Little Johnny--he screamed. I am the masked madman. If you send this to thirteen of your friends, I shall not come. But if you break this, I shall appear tomorrow at night, in your room, floating, and with my sharp basked in blood.

Dark ceremonial music was playing. It made matter move. The picture frames by the television set were given life. They seemed moving and breathing.

"Little Johnny," a voice crept. The music faded. "Did he die?" Oh, yeah, I could see spirits. This wasn’t abnormal.

"I like these stuff, these wicked forms. They’re refreshing to the mind."

"Some are not exactly refreshing, Silver."

"Oh. Then, what else do you suggest is?"

"No idea. The delusional state, perhaps?"

He shook Sis’s envelope gently. A tiny piece of paper fell out of it. It landed on my left hand.

"Another page." His eyes were drooped, like fluid on the faucet. "Do you reckon it’s an eye?"

"I don’t know, but--" the look evolved to a stare.

Hazy lines appeared on it, fiery dash. I felt I was being split into two. I entered the delusional state. Vision was blurry, the world ripples, ocean wave. It wasn’t constant. Shortly, they became colorful sand, flowing in void.

I expected a door, but I was given the new world. Afternoon, at Moonridge, before Room 211. Classes were over. A young girl exited the room. She was about thirteen. She looked familiar, for some reason. Inside was another one. The Room 211 here was a normal classroom, not ruins.

"Julia, there is something that you have to know," said a voice. It was clearly Blue Deepwater’s. "No, you must. It is about my brethren, us the Images."