I DON'T KNOW YOU

33.) out of time

•» "ι preғer a real vιllaιn тo a ғalѕe нero,"
-ĸιller мιĸe «•

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• K Y R A N •

    We all have those memories inside our heads that we'll never forget. Those memories, whether it be of a moment, a noise, an experience, you could just never forget them. They'll always be there, locked up inside the vault you've hidden somewhere in the obscure back of your mind.

    Like perhaps the time you weren't paying attention and accidentally rammed your toe into the leg of a table, experiencing probably one of man's greatest enemies: stubbed toe pain. Or maybe when it had rained after a day or two and when you went outside, the smell of dew collecting on the lawn filled your lungs refreshingly. Maybe even when you had been wandering around in the Home Depot and watched as an employee mixed the paint, staring as the colors combined and swirled around as the aroma of paint lingered in the air. The little things, the recognizable happenings, the random events that you just don't forget for some odd or no reason in particular.

    I think the noise I'll always remember was the dragging noise, hearing something being pulled along the earth above us. I didn't need context to know what was happening, it was self-explanatory.

    I didn't want to imagine the idea, the imagery of whoever Draco and Funneh had been vaguely alluding to pulling along our friends like lifeless husks or sacks of flour being hauled by bakers about to bake some pastries. The imagination of everything going wrong and forming into a scene you would see in a murder show, when the psychopath yanks along the body of their victim.

   Anxiously, I stood there and fiddled with the tie of my clothes, wrapping and twisting it around the palm and fingers of my hand like a little game to calm my nervousness.

   In my head, I heard another noise that anyone wouldn't forget, or rather, I wouldn't forget. I was young and my grandma used to have an antique grandfather clock, those large and tall ones that made loud chimes when the hour struck regularly and played anew.

    I hated that clock as a kid. It was always so loud, and I always forgot that it would chime so abruptly. It would creak on occasion, and sometimes I would think it was haunted by some sort of ghost or poltergeist. Sometimes, I even thought I'd saw a reflection in the glass, but not of mine or my family. Then again, it might have just been a wild imagination coming from my childish mind at the time. But I'd never forget that vintage thing.

     "Funneh? Draco?" Aly called out, cupping her hands around her mouth before Alec shushed her using his index finger.

    "What happened?" I inquired to the others, not allowing my voice to raise past a whisper tone.

"We have to go up there," Aly demanded, also keeping her voice a whisper, "we shouldn't have listened to them."

"Since when do we ever listen to anyone?" Evan dryly replied.

    "And the one time we do, everything goes awry," Aly mumbled, crossing her arms and and anxiously tapped her foot against the ground, "this is a wonderful excuse to use to never listen."

    "Now's not the time, Aly," Alec corrected, not whispering but not talking at a normal level of voice either.

    "I think it's safe to go up now," I whispered to them, pushing past a few slivers of grass, "don't make me go up there alone!"