▇▇ 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.
▇▇ 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.
but don't worry, he tries to reassure himself.
they've been dead since '85.