September 4, 2014

“It was a game. Approaching the smoke was something to be done on a dare in the middle of the night with ghost stories repeating in our heads. Once upon a time, there was a man with a hook who killed lovers in the dark. Once upon a time, there was a woman whose neck painted the walls. Once upon a time, there was a room that was locked shut and a child who was told to never find the key. We lived for those stories until we went prowling through the smoke. Then we turned the corner, saw an inky black that moved but also did not, and immediately ran back.”

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