Chapter 2

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           I'm serious, read this!

             ••• Chapter 2 •••

       When Kelsey and I exit the school, the halls are overflowing with high school students. With arms linked together, my best friend and I make our way down the street to the neighborhood where our houses stood with only a road to separate them. We talk about everything possible, until we get to the small slap fight between Mallory Fox and I.

       "So, you wanna tell me about the issue back in the halls?"

       I shrug. I wrap my arms a little bit tighter around my books and binders before flipping my dark hair over my shoulder. "I dunno. I just said something, she took it the wrong way, bada-bing bada-boom, there's a red hand print identical to Mallory's on my cheek."

       "You can't be so easy going about this! Come on, you almost got caught by a teacher, and that would not bode well for your future."

        "I'm fine. I'm just happy Jiles hasn't called my mom yet, or scheduled a parent-teacher conference. As long as I'm not suspended, I'm fine."

       Kelsey rolls her eyes. "Okay, new topic. What are you gonna do about your detention?"

       "You mean the one where I was framed for looking at a piece of paper with no notes on it?" I ask her, a hint of a smart-Alec tone in my voice. Her face becomes confused, silently asking me what I'm talking about.

       "All that was on the paper were a few bullet points and words describing to her why exactly I suck." I roll my eyes. When a few more minutes pass, I can see my red brick house in front of me.

       Kelsey waves goodbye to me. As soon as she does so, I break into a run. I run as fast as I can, which sadly isn't very fast, because of all of my school stuff. My feet in my white and blue Nikes pound against the black asphalt, then I jump the curb and the pounding becomes softer on the grass. I throw open my door and my jaw drops.

       The entire house is a complete wreck. The once navy blue walls are now a dark grey. Couch cushions look as if a crazy cat on steroids was in our home. Smoke, charred rubble, and shreds. That is all the house is.

       My school things fall from my arms. I run about the house calling my parents over and over again.

       "Mom? … Dad? Molly Susanne Harris Johnson and Michael Grant Johnson, you come out now!" I realize that I sound like my mom when Greyson and I spooked her when she came home from work one day. The more I call their names out, the more desperate my cries become. After almost twenty-four minutes of calling out for my parents non-stop, I finally give up. Every time I call out, I am left with a deafening silence in the wrecked house. They never answer.

       My voice is hoarse from yelling. My eyes are red and puffy from holding tears back every time they did not answer. I fall onto the black torn couch and bury my face into a shredded throw pillow and cry.

       After crying for not as nearly as long as the time I spent calling out, I hear a noise. I jerk my head up and look in the direction of the sound. Nothing. Just a big mess, like the rest of the house.

       As I begin to lie back down on the couch, I hear another noise, one that is louder. I move off of the couch and follow the noise, which continues. It comes from the top of the stair case.

       Barely thinking, I grab what ever is closest to me and clutch it tightly without giving it a sideways glance as I move closer to the ash-covered stair steps. A new noise comes, one that sounds like falling, then rolling, then falling again. What fell and rolled comes closer to me. I clutch my object tighter and back up against the wall. The noise becomes louder than all the rest.

       A quick and heavy gulp slides down my throat as the object appears at the top of the stair case. As I step onto two more steps, I can make out that it is a giant bone. A giant finger bone, by the looks of it. A mixture of curiosity and fright over whelms my face and I ascend the steps to get a better look at it.

       Then I hear footsteps. They come down the upper hall way as fast as a zombie would. Then, another bone appears, one that is connected to others to make a very large human foot. Another foot follows the first, then a giant skeletal hand lowers it's self to pick up the finger bone.

       The feet step once more each. The finger bone, feet, and hand's owner comes into view. I stagger back a few steps, nearly falling down the stairs. A giant skeleton fastens it's finger (apparently it's pinky finger) onto it's left hand and looks at me through empty eye sockets.

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