The Silent Hill games were really onto something when they started the games with a dope music video (either immediately or after waiting on the title screen for a minute). Really sets the tone and gets you hyped and showcases the awesome original music. More games should do that.

Ghost!AU with Jungkook

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moodboard link

Group: BTS 

Member: Jeon Jungkook

Other Characters: mentions of ghost!Yoongi and neighbor!Taehyung

Genre: fluff, platonic bc he’s literally dead 

Type: Bulletpoint AU 

Word Count: approx. 1.5k 

A/N: totally late bc Halloween, but better late than never 

Jungkook died in an embarrassing way

not like, on the toilet embarrassed

more of… he forgot to drink water while he was playing some video games….

so……... dehydration

even though he died in the 21st century, dehydration is probably the stupidest way to die 

so he died fairly recently

around 5ish years

recently enough to still be roaming around earth

especially in the apartment he died in

the nice landlady tries to rent it out to other people and while the price is lower

(primarily bc he DIED in there)

people just keep leaving

it’s not Jungkook’s fault but also his fault

like he doesn’t mind having other people

but the other people………. don’t really wanna live with him

lowkey he gets hurt whenever people move out

bc when the landlady asks

they always say there’s a chill that brushes by and it freaks them out a bit

(homeboy is just trying to walk from place to place)

and then how things move without them moving them

(it’s more convenient for Jungkook if people have coasters under their glasses, just saying)

and how in the evenings, the electronics would turn on

this is actually Jungkook’s fault bc he’s in the habit of playing games at night and watching tv until late

so when a tv turns on its own and flips channels and you know that no one else is in your living room……………….. people move out the night that he starts turning on shit

yeah, when your shit starts to turn on by itself…… I would be moving out too

that’s paranormal activity shit

and most don’t wanna mess with that

Jungkook isn’t intentionally pushing people out

it’s just an accident bc he just forgets he’s not alive

Yoongi, the ghost from two floors up, says that it’s because humans tend to fear the unknown

he’s got a point too

that’s why humans fear death—they don’t know what happens after you die

there was one guy who ended up “living” with Jungkook for the longer time period

Namjoon was a good guy

he’s so great that after seven months of moving here, he moved out to live in a bigger space with his partner

Jungkook was upset but he was happy for him, even though he hasn’t spoken a word to him

so that was his current situation: another empty apartment that the landlady is trying to rent out once more

this is where you come in

you rent out this place and within a week, you’re moving in

Jungkook stays in the corner a bit, just observing you

he makes note of your pictures, knick-knacks, and other supplies

it’s about another week or so until you’re settled and established some kind of routine

he doesn’t mind you

you’re consistent

it’s about another two weeks or so until he makes his presence known

one night, you were working on an assignment late at night with the tv on

you just picked something off of netflix and let it play

it was just the soft sounds of the television and the typing of your laptop keys

and then

you felt it

there was shift in the temperature and a chill brushed against your neck

even with your hoodie on, you shivered from the cold

and moved from your spot to grab a heavier blanket 

when you came back from your bedroom, you didn’t notice how one of the throw pillows have slightly shifted over

by slightly, I mean moved over to the other side

you didn’t think much of it and shrugged it off, thinking you might have moved it earlier

the sleep deprivation was getting to you

to Jungkook tho, it meant acceptance

small, but still meaningful

again, you didn’t think much of it

until it was happening for a solid month

even during daytime

so……….. you asked around the building

they didn’t really say much, just that a lot of people tended to move out because of some of the stuff that happened there

it wasn’t until you met Taehyung that you found out about Jungkook

he was pretty close with him, since they were close in age and bonded over video games and dogs

when he died, he actually attended the funeral and it was…. upsetting to see such a young man die

Taehyung: “you know, most people tend move out about a month after moving in”

Taehyung: “they all seem freaked out and the landlady even called a shaman to check out the place because it was deemed as ‘unliveable’”

You: “well, has anyone found evidence that he’s still there?”

Taehyung: “I don’t think anyone could handle it if they found out”

You: this is a bad idea but oh well

so you may or may not have bought a ouija board (you did)

and you try talking to him

you set up candles and a picture (which you got from Taehyung himself)

once the sun sets, you officially start

Jungkook thinks it’s hilarious so he plays along

You: “hello spirit of Jungkook, I’m (Y/N) and I wanted to ask if you are here”

after a couple of minutes of no response, you sigh, feeling ridiculous

You: well, this is stupid

and then

it moves

your eyes widen as your hands push towards the yes

you didn’t actually think you would get an answer so you were at a bit of a lost

You: “is it okay if I’m living here?”

he moves it towards the no

you let out a sigh of relief

You: “cool, so you aren’t a murder ghost, great”

he’s laughing but you can’t really hear him

although, you do hear a faint sound of wind chimes—even though you are very sure that none of your neighbors even have wind chimes

so you “talk” with him a bit more and eventually, you head to sleep

You: “thank you for not killing me and please look away when I’m in the bathroom or changing”

if Jungkook wasn’t dead, he was very sure there would have been blush on his cheeks

so you two live side by side peacefully

you were wearing a lot more hoodies to avoid the cold breezes that pass by

if you forget where something was, most of the time, they show up in front of you in courtesy of Jungkook finding it

when you often forgot, he would help you with

one time you didn’t push the cook button for the rice cooker

(he saved you from throwing the whole batch out)

sometimes you even leave a small bowl out for him like an offering

and, yeah, he can’t eat it but he does appreciate it

it goes like this for a while and you’re both content

and then Halloween comes

at previously midnight when Halloween begins

there’s another cold breeze that passes by and you wake up, dazed and confused

and, in the darkness, there’s a shadowy figure you spot at the end of your bed

and suddenly you’re awake, sitting up in your bed

you wrap yourself a bit tighter in your blanket as you hear your name being whispered

Jungkook: “I didn’t mean to wake you”

You: what. the. fuck.

Jungkook: “go back to sleep”

the last thing you hear is soft singing from an angelic voice before you drift back to sleep

you wake up the next morning

putting on Halloween movies, putting on the Monster Mash, and prepping candy for the kids that stop by your apartment

it wasn’t until Jungkook makes an appearance that you remembered what happened last night

and I mean APPEARANCE

you physically saw him in your kitchen

and screamed

he was just as startled as you

but you haven’t even seen him until today

(expect for the pictures Taehyung showed you, which is the only reason you recognized him)

Jungkook: “did I not mention that on Halloween I can physically appear?”

You: “NO BITCH YOU DIDN’T TELL ME”

Jungkook: “well, I’m telling you now” :(

after you calm down from the miniature heart attack, you get to spend a day together

well, mostly on your part since you can actually see him now

he’s just more…… visible

it’s fun, it’s like a longtime friend coming over and spending the day with you

so you spend the night watching more movies, dressing up (at least, you did), and giving candy to the kids

you learn more about him and it’s a super fun time for the both of you because it means actual conversations

like how good he is at singing

(it’s very clear how much he loves music)

how often he likes to play computer games

his cleanliness

how much he likes the romantic comedies you put on

his weird obsession with trying different ramens

Jungkook: “I had like 6 cups in a row once”

You: “well jesus, no wonder you died”

Jungkook: “stop making fun of me” ​😭​

he’s not sure how long he’ll be here, but he’s glad he’ll be living with you while he’s here

and when midnight comes and you’re falling asleep as Hocus Pocus plays in the background

you hear it 

“good night, (Y/N), until next Halloween” 

Good grief, Charlie Brown.

I’ve never owned an electric toothbrush. I’ve never had a dishwasher. I am the dishwasher. I like washing dishes. I never bought an iron. I don’t have a hairdryer. I find it strange that I get advertised these reusable alternatives for things that I never use anyway. Alternatives to cling film. I put another plate over the dish. Alternatives to cotton buds. I use my finger. (Ew, you may say, but surely a finger’s that size to fit in ears and nostrils? Or whatever orifice you please. Wash your hawnds.) Alternatives to cotton wool circles. What? I dont know why these thoughts have come into my head, when I want to write about my youngest child. Really, I’m meant to be working, but an annoying email from my dead daughter’s school sent me down a suicide rabbithole. Perhaps those other thoughts come about as my classic brain avoidance schemes. Like when you hoover instead of doing an essay. Positive procrastination, I used to call it. I wanted to visit some friends last night- a fun thing! but I was feeling all solitary and awkward. I cleaned the bathroom ceiling at first, instead! I had to really talk myself into going to see them. I was looking at my bed and it was saying, “Get into me! and read your book!”

Then I went, and I had a lovely time, of course. I still finished the book I was reading, when I got home at midnight, until three am, making myself ever so tired. I’ve stopped taking the tablets- beta blockers and mirtazapine (more by accident rather than design. They’re still up in the chemist waiting for me. I’m rather disorganised) and so sleep doesn’t come as readily. I have to take deep breaths for ages sometimes, to get over. And I awake in the night hearing things that aren’t there. I heard The Woodcarver calling me, one night, plain and loud as day. Another time, I heard my son knocking my door three times, sharply (or was it a burglar? I said that to someone and they laughed. Burglars don’t knock! Oh, hello there, wake up, I’m robbing you blind!) Bounced out of bed. Heart hammering. Called him. He was fast asleep. Was it her ghost? I don’t believe in ghosts, really. Kind of wish I did. She’d be a mischievous one, no doubt. Is it always 5:57am, when I awake? The same time. Time to find your dead child. 

I’m often in the house alone, now. They didn’t want to leave me alone, and there were so many people in the house, for ages. Then all of a sudden, it stopped. And I changed lovers... I changed to the one I’d been in love with for over a year, the one who seemed too young, the one who wasn’t interested. Suddenly he was interested. Well. It wasn’t sudden. It took a few weeks. Seven weeks? The seven week itch? It coincided with when the Scottish lover asked me to stop letting other people come to the house. He wanted me to himself. Which is kind of fair enough, though I knew it wouldn’t last anyway. (People coming to my house, I mean, not the relationship. I really enjoyed having a relationship with him. He is very sweet, funny, intelligent, and kind. The sex was great. He can cook wonderful food and play guitar well. I liked to sing with him. I am ashamed to say I was bothered by his being smaller than me, though. His face tended to itch me, too- he never quite grew a beard long enough to stop that. As he kept shaving it off, not because he couldn’t. That was the first time he kind of annoyed me, though.)

Lockdown doesn’t help, of course. We were all breaking rules in our grief. Covid is cancelled, my mother said. Masks off. Hugs all round. A friend told me you need extra oxytocin when you’re grieving. I was getting plenty of it. Good grief... 

Now I am frequently alone, and as my new lover is very busy studying (or perhaps less interested in me again now that he has my attention back? Though his reticence in getting with me stemmed from his concerns about the uneven nature of our interest in each other...) I haven’t seen him all week. I feel myself becoming depressed, and withdrawn, and paranoid, yet I still don't feel particularly sad about my daughter’s death. Which is strange. Isn’t it? Here is the email I received from her school this morning (it had her name and class at the top of the email): 

“Good morning

I hope this email finds you all well.

A number of years ago I signed the college up to the campaign against period poverty. I receive and distribute sanitary products to girls, primarily on free school meals, but any who are in need of the products and either can’t afford them or it is difficult to get them. The products are normally distributed by myself, during P.E and games, unfortunately this can’t happen at present.

These products are still available during the school closure. If you wish to avail of them, please contact our school info account (which is only read by one member of office staff) your request will be directed to me and I will contact you directly regarding collection.

These are difficult times for many at present and to quote my favourite supermarket, ‘every little helps’.

Kind regards...”

I was really with her until she quoted Tesco. And said they were her favourite!! Ugh! I mean, it really is a great idea. Though they really should check if the people they are writing about are still capable of bleeding. My heart bleeds....

I replied thus:

“Hello there.

Great idea, but as (my youngest daughter) has died, she won't be needing them any more. I hate Tesco- they ruin many little businesses.

Maybe take me off this mailing list?”

Then I attached one of her seven suicide notes: the one for school. Which I had previously not shown them. I only found it on Christmas Eve. Can I attach it, here? It has no names... 

There we are. Is it wrong of me to find her notes amusing? She is so angry, people say. I wonder how much of it is literal, and how much of it is using the school as a big nameless scapegoat. She was funny in the rest of them, too, and very loving. I found them comforting, like a fucked up Christmas present.

Then I started reading articles about suicide, and they were about how we shouldn’t call the people who do it selfish, about how depressed they are, how they need pity, not anger. I’m tired of the pity (though I’m not the suicidal one). I’m not producing enough sadness from myself when people pity me, either. Where is my sadness? Am I too acceptant of it all? We are all going to die. Is suicide like a C-section? Is it cheating death, like I thought my Caesareans cheated birth? Is suicide self euthanasia? Why do I not miss my daughter more? Is it because she had already left? Was she released, happy, free as a bird, swooping away on an Awfully Big Adventure? Trapezing her way into the æther? I googled to see if I could find any positive reactions to suicide. Is this my nature, to try and find the good in everything? To try and make light of the horrific? Is everything a joke to me? 

I found this blog post, from Andreas Moser.

I love it. Am I trying to take the blame away from myself? The NHS? The school? Should I be reeling and railing against the systems that let my daughter get into that state? Why am I instead trying to find ways to applaud her behaviour, accept it, even enjoy it?! When I read his words, “I admire their courage (because logical as it may be, it’s not easy) and the determination to make the ultimate decision in life oneself.” I felt a strange sensation of relief, that someone else could think those things. I had been thinking them, but trying not to, because it seemed like such an awful thing to think. But then I think, why does anyone else have to be to blame? It was her decision. 

The book I was rereading is called Life After Life, by Kate Atkinson. It’s my favourite book, I have decided, for now. Do favourites stay favourites? I was looking at my old Couchsurfing Profile today (because of Andreas’ blog- he, as a hippy hermit, is, of course, on Couchsurfing). One needs to update these every so often. Explain that you have watched another film in the last twenty years, that there is one less sofa in your living room, one less child on your earth. Even though no-one is allowed to move around, really. No visiting. No exploring. Perhaps she killed herself to escape the boredom. 

In Life After Life, the main character, Ursula, lives again and again. (I forgot that to live again and again, she had to die again and again. It's a very sad and graphic book, spanning two wars- read it. It is, ultimately, uplifting.) I wanted to read it again to make my daughter live again, and again. We need to write her alive. Show her drawings and paintings. Listen to her songs (they're hilarious). Read her poems. Admire her photographs. Tell the stories of her antics.

I know that really she was actually depressed and withdrawn. I know it isn’t a glorious escape. That her wee head was broken, and that sometimes it’s just easier to say, it was unfixable, she was determined, this is what she wanted, than to contemplate it as my (or anyone else’s) failure to help her. I know that she used to be confident and gregarious. She would have danced in front of people, inspiring others. She was always upside-down, tumbling, twirling, cartwheeling. She had a dry, cheeky wit, and rather an amusing obsession with poo and wee. She was kind, and wise. She liked to bake vegan treats. She could draw, and paint, and sing so beautifully. She played the ukelele, but by then she was hiding away. She had started to write poems- songs? She wouldn’t show us them. We had to beg her to perform on the trapeze for her Granny’s eightieth, in July. She did so, beautifully, but you could tell she hated the attention. Four months later, she hanged herself on it. 

Had we all withdrawn into ourselves, this 2020? Was there really nothing else to do? Yet I remember the start of Lockdown seeming idyllic. All that free time, all that sunshine. Was I just trying to convince myself, as usual? The only people we saw were the Woodcarver and the neighbours. She taught the wee boy next door to ride his unicycle. When she died, he brought in a picture he had drawn, of them on their unicycles, she as an angel above herself, a rainbow arcing over the three figures. His sadness affected me. I felt like I could only be sad through other people. Where is my sadness? Where is my grief? Good grief, bad grief, no grief? Alternatives to grief.

A Little Less Than Ordinary

Pairing: Reader X GOT7 Jackson Wang Childhood friends, School!AU Word Count: 2800+

A/N: There’s this ask that has been sitting on my inbox for forever. It was a request for a “friends to lovers” Jackson. I didn’t plan on taking any requests as I am not that good of a writer, and I can’t write unless I felt like it. So sorry to the anon who requested, hope this one story would be okay. :) This was originally titled “Stop Stop It” and was in my WIP masterlist for quite sometime now.

**

If you were to pick a word that best describe how your life is, it would be ordinary. You see yourself as the average girl, living in an average town, in the average time, with an average family. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. You come to love your simple life.

In this ordinary life of yours, you allowed one extraordinary person to exist. Your childhood best friend, Jackson. For as long as you remember, he was never ordinary. Having grown up in a family of athletes, and a little well off than anyone else you know. You still remembered the first day you visited his house. On how you were in awe the first time you saw a chandelier hanging above their dining table. Having been around him also made you realize how attractive he is. To everyone. You see how the girls gaze at him when you pass the hallway of the school. How even the teachers give off a different air when they talk to him. It made you thought of when God created men and sprinkled charms, he must have gotten too much of it. But still, you accepted that fact and stayed by his side since you can no longer remember when. You somehow get along, enjoying each other’s company. Being the extraordinary person that he is, and knowing how ordinary you are, didn’t hinder your friendship.  

“Y/N, don’t forget to attend the student organization’s meeting later after class.”, Mrs. Park tells you before leaving the classroom.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Amidst your classmates chattering about, preparing for the next subject, you glanced at the vacant seat near the window. Jackson’s seat. He’s probably still at basketball practice. The inter-high tournament is nearing so he’s been excused from class quite frequently lately.

It was an accident. You, becoming your class’ representative. Afterall, it really wouldn’t sit well in your beloved ordinary life. What happened was during the first day of class, you were about to nominate someone else, but forgot that person’s name. Starting off with that embarrassment, it somehow ended up with the class nominating and finally voting for you. And when it came to nominate the assistant representative, Jackson nominated himself. You remember him giving you a wink when he did. And it has taken away all the nervousness you felt at that moment standing before everyone from your class. And you couldn’t be more thankful for him. Even though you knew even then that he’s also part of the school’s varsity team, you kind of expected that you would be doing all the work. You even prepared yourself for it, and you tell yourself it’s okay. Just knowing that he’s there supporting you is enough.

But the truth is, it’s not like that at all.

The sound of the door opening and hitting the edge of the wall was louder than one would expect and everyone in the room turned their attention to Jackson. He was huffing, as if he ran to get here. He didn’t pay anyone else attention and proceeded to scan the faces of everyone in the room until his eyes found the one he’s been looking for. He gave a quick grin to your direction, quickly closing the door and sat on the empty seat beside you, while the person in front continued on with the discussion.

“Sorry, I’m late.”, he whispered to you casually while his attention was on the discussion out front.

Yes, he’s like that. He always makes it a point not to abandon his class representative duty. You don’t know where he gets his energy from. Being at basketball practice, school organization activities, and studies. How he juggles everything in ease amazes you. But you came to the conclusion that he can because it’s just him being extraordinary.

“Didn’t your basketball practice overlap with the meeting schedule earlier?”, you ask him now as you walk on the streets on your way home.

“Well, yeah. But I told coach I’m needed there so he let me go.”

You eyed him wearily. “He let you go?”, you somehow don’t believe it considering the team’s coach reputation to be strict.

“He let me go.”, he nodded. “…in exchange for adding an hour to my practice tomorrow.”, he admitted.

You shook your head. “I texted you earlier. I told you, you don’t have to attend, I can just let you know what was discussed afterwards.”, you nagged.

“And miss all the fun discussion for the school fair? Not a chance.”, he said, half chuckling to himself. “Let me know when we’re going to start planning so I can adjust my schedule, okay?”, he added.

“Jackson, are you sure you’re not getting tired?”, you asked hesitantly.

He gave you a quick glance, tightening the grip of his hands on the backpack that was slung on his upper arms, and smiled. “Look, I know what I’m getting into when I nominated myself. I don’t want you to do this on your own.”

“I can ask somebody else for help-”

“But I’m your best friend! I don’t want to hear any more of this.” He said, ending the conversation.

If only he knew what you meant.

You lay on your bed that night thinking of it again. Your growing feelings for him. How all the self-control that you had, the rationality and resolve on keeping your perfect ordinary life, made you decide to put a lid on those feelings a long time ago. And now you’re blaming adolescence for getting the best of you and lately it’s been getting harder for you to be around him.

You clearly remembered the day you knew you fell in love. It was so unexpected and was so in the wrong time. It was your freshmen year and Jackson confided in you about how he’s afraid that his parents are going to split up. How it scared him to end up in a broken home. You saw how painful he looked. Like dark clouds above his head. He’s eyes teary and you ended up just hugging him to make him feel better. And because you don’t know the right thing to say. It was the first time you saw him that way. Too opposite on how he was usually. And you know it’s bad that you felt that way, but you did. You felt happy to see that side of him. You were happy to be that one person he trusts to show that side of him. And it made you felt guilty. And made you more determine to hide those feelings away. Tucked deep inside never to come out.

You thought you were doing better. You even resolved to be happy for him if he found a girl he likes. Until just last summer. The first time you noticed your heart wavered was during one of his practice games. You already know he’s a great player, he even got a following of a few female students cheering for him at that game. You were just in the audience, watching him play and at one moment, after he made a score, his eyes found yours. He was all smiles, his teeth in full view, and gave you his signature wink. And that was it. It only took one wink and you felt your whole perfect world shatter. Your heart fell, it ached as you felt the heat rise on your cheeks. Stop. You tell your heart. Stop it.

Why does he have to be so perfect?

“You haven’t crossed half your list yet?”, Jackson asked in surprise when he took a glimpse on the note of the shopping list you held on your palm.

“Nope. We still have a lot to cover.”, you answer while your eyes scan the list.

“This is going to take a while.”, he sighed picking up the new bag of supplies before you both went out of the second store you visited that day.

“That’s why I told you, I can get the other guys to shop with me instead.”

“But they’re only free next weekend, and you know I have basketball stuff to attend so I wouldn’t be able to come.”, he countered, putting his arms around your shoulder as you walk.

“Which why I said, it’s fine if you don’t come.”

“Alright, so where to, next?” he asked, pretending not to hear what you just said. He’s stubborn like this when he knows he’s losing an argument. And you find it endearing so you just let him.

In your ordinary life, sometimes extraordinary things happen. Like this day for instance, even if the sun was clearly shining brightly out, the rain suddenly poured.

You and Jackson had just dropped off the supplies you bought for the school fair at one of the club rooms and was just about to leave the school grounds when you felt the raindrops on your head. You looked up at the clear sky above and wondered how rain could have fallen on one sunny day. Another drop of rain on your cheeks made you smile. And afterwards as the rain fell harder, you didn’t know what came over you, but you continued walking as if walking under the rain was the most normal thing to do. You giggled as you turned to look at Jackson, who was half thinking about going back to shelter and deciding not to and just watched as you enjoyed dancing in the rain.

But just as you feared, having extraordinary moments like this has its toll.

After that day, you felt Jackson slipped away from you. He suddenly became cold. Not letting you know his practice schedule, nor asking you to wait for him when you go home from class as he usually did. Not showing up on some of the school organization meetings. When you chat with him, he would reply with fewer words. Not sharing fascinating stories about his strict coach. You tell yourself, maybe he’s just stressed lately. Maybe your extraordinary friend has off days too. Maybe he’ll go back to the way he was soon. Maybe.

“Where’s Jacks, anyway?”, Bambam asked as he put up the decorations on the ceiling while you held the chair he’s standing on.

“Busy with basketball.” was your standard answer every time you were being asked about him these days even if you don’t really know what’s keeping him busy lately.

“I hate to ask, but are you two alright?”, Bambam asked now after stepping down from the chair.

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing how you two are, it’s not like him to let you decorate this booth to yourself.”

“I told him I can get you to help me. Don’t worry, we’re good. I asked him to rest easy for the school organization while he prepares for his game.” Half-truth. You’re now hoping your friend drops the subject while you can still contain the pain of not knowing how your relationship is with your best friend at the moment.

Time passed quickly that day while you prepare the booth for the fair and the sun was already setting when you notice you’re the only person left in the building. You entered the empty classroom to get your things and glanced once again at the empty seat beside the window. Jackson’s seat.

You walked closer and sat on it, placing both palms down on top of his desk. Maybe somehow feel his warmth or his presence from it. You didn’t know how long since you last spent time together. And you know you have been telling him from the start to not worry about the school fair preparation. That he can focus on basketball and that you can do the school organization stuff on your own. But you hated how he did just that so coldly. You now felt tears slowly coming out of your eyes and you let it. It’s okay to cry if you’re missing someone, right?

You opened your eyes to see his face in front of yours.

You realized you fell asleep seeing how it’s now dark outside, the moon’s brightness and perhaps the lights from outside the school building illuminated the place from the opened windows. Despite the dim surroundings, you clearly see it’s him. You weren’t hallucinating. Jackson was sitting beside you, his head rested on the desk facing yours, you two mirroring each other’s position.

“What are you doing here?”, you asked. Not moving an inch as if you’re scared that moving would make him disappear.

“I just finished practice and I saw you sleeping.”

You tried to smile with the sadness still evident in your eyes. “Long time no see.”, was all you can say when the truth is you wanted to ask how he’s been, what’s been going on, if did you do anything wrong.

But he somehow understood the unspoken questions through your face. And he told you why he’s been avoiding you.

He said he blamed the rain. It was because it rained that day that his suffering has started. He tells you how he remembered how you danced under the rain, laughing as the raindrops slowly drizzle on your hair, soaking your shirt. He remembered clearly water dripping from the edge of your shorts, the splashes of puddles from the pavement. He said it was like watching you in slow motion and that he can’t even recall hearing what you were saying. It was hard for him to swallow or breathe at that moment. All he can feel is the heat rising to his cheeks and the ache in his heart.

Afterwards, he couldn’t see you without being awkward.

“You were too cute and it’s honestly ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time.” he whispered. A hint of your old best friend Jackson in his voice, the one you’ve been dying to get back.

“Then why not just kiss me.”, the words just found their way out of your mouth. Maybe it was as simple as that and you can both go back to the way you were.

“I told you to stop being cute.”

After that conversation, you let him go. You didn’t want to push him. Maybe you both needed time away from each other to sort each of your feelings. And to decide whether it’s worth it to take it a step further or avoid it completely. But at least now, you know it wasn’t just you. It wasn’t a one-sided thing. This extraordinary person thinks he loves you, too.

The school fair ended with your heart a little lighter and Jackson did his best to still let you know how he is, where he is, what he’s doing, even though he still cannot be around you. He let’s you know that he’s spending the weekend with the basketball team for practice camp. He told you he wouldn’t be back until Monday. Which is why you were surprised when you saw his text that Sunday night.

Jackson: Can you come out? [9:56 PM]

You quickly went to your porch and found him sitting on the waiting shed across from your house. He was still wearing his team’s tracksuit, and you can see the packed overnight bag beside his feet.

“Did you come all the way here from camp?”, you asked when you came over.

He nodded and tapped the seat beside him, gesturing for you to sit. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you.”

He cleared his throat, and you observed him. His tone, his movements. Checking if he’s back to being your best friend, or-

“I decided.”, he said, bursting your thoughts. “It was also wrong timing when it occurred to me, because I was in the middle of a routine when it just hit me.” He grinned as he recalled how anxious he was.

“I have been so stupid and doing this all wrong. I was just the only one torturing myself. Thinking of stopping his.”, his palm on his heart. “When all I could have just done to stop the pain was just to accept it for what it was. That it’s here and I can’t really throw it out or pretend it’s not here.”

Silence. You can hear each other’s breath in suspense.

“Y/N, I love you.”

You felt it. The pain that was in your heart, now suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a floating feeling. As if your heart was above the clouds. Was it really just as simple as that? Accepting that you love this person in front of you. Even if he was the embodiment of your opposite. Knowing he’ll break every law you created to keep your life ordinary.

“I love you, too Jackson.”. you say in defeat. Internally bidding goodbye to your ordinary life. And you knew it was worth it when you saw the light on his smile.

“Does the offer to kiss you still stand?”, he asked.

You nod. You both grinning from ear to ear, giddy from young love. He cupped your face before he closed his eyes as he slowly reached for your lips.

You kissed.

And you know from that point on. You will welcome any extraordinary things, moments, person who will come into your life. And you will love it. You will live and love your life, even if it becomes a little less than ordinary.

**

A/N: I love Jackson Wang. ^_^

This chapter contains some brief NSFW content.

ALSO: Oreo O's are back. Thought you all should be made aware.

[AO3 LINK]

Elsa felt like her morning shower took twice as long as usual. Perhaps that was because she washed every part of her body twice, other than her hair.

Her sister's hand had been so close. Much closer than it should ever have come. But that wasn't the reason she kept scrubbing her skin until it shone red here and there; no, that was because she hadn't altogether hated the idea. Much as she knew it was wrong…

'What if Anna did keep going?' she thought as she slid the soapy washcloth over the back of her thigh again. 'What if I hadn't panicked and told her to stop, and… and I actually let her touch me? Would that make me the worst big sister in the world?'

The instinct was still there. Despite all those years apart, she still couldn't help feeling responsible for her little sister; even when she was the one pushing things, changing their relationship. Anna had lost her faith in God, and she had gone so far away from the righteous path that she not only wanted to sleep with women, but with one related to her. It was beyond "astray"!

But without thinking about religion… would she feel the same way? It was hard for her after so many years with her mother. Practically her entire existence had been centered around bringing glory and honour to His name. How on earth was she supposed to do that if she was so very tempted to sin?

'Okay, okay, get it together, Elsa. You're a smart, capable woman. You're in university, and doing great there! Just… think.'

True, the Bible said homosexuality was wrong. But then again, both Anna and Rapunzel had pointed out that might not really be the case. It certainly didn't feel wrong when she was wrapped tightly in Anna's arms, heart singing from how her soft lips felt. Body craving to even just be tickled again, if not more. The fact that she was her sister didn't seem to matter.

But it should. That was something everyone seemed to agree on, gay or straight. How could Anna want to do these kinds of things with her? How could she let her do them? They both had the same parents, the same DNA — with a few differences, of course. Had grown up together, played together and been read the same bedtime stories. Gone to the same schools before the divorce had changed all that. It was perverse… or should have been.

The mere thought of Anna pressing her down into the bed again renewed the tingles. She could try to lie to herself, say that she liked the feeling but not the person doing it, but what was the point? She wanted it to happen. She wanted it to happen with Anna again.

Anna, and no one else.

The moment she had that thought, she hated how true it was. She had the hots for her little sister. Crazy! She was literally crazy. It had crept up on her a little at a time, every time they held hands, or kissed, or hugged just a few seconds too long. Desire. Lust. The only thing that kept her from thinking of herself as a horrible monster was the knowledge that Anna started everything in the first place.

'And I don't even know if I'll like sex,' she thought at herself as she washed under her arms with more intensity than was necessary. 'Why should I try it with a sibling before anybody else?'

'Because it's more comfortable with Anna,' that irritating voice in the back of her mind replied. With nothing to distract her other than water and soap, she couldn't block out the thoughts that she had been doing such a good job of suppressing. 'You've been so intimidated by boys and the whole idea of dating for so long. Either because you were scared of opening up to a stranger… or because you were saving yourself for-'

The soap shot out of her hand and thunked into the wall, then slid down into the tub. No. No, she had never thought about Anna that way before. That wasn't right! One just didn't think about one's own sister that way, ever! But what if, on a subconscious level, she had? She could remember Anna saying she wanted to marry Elsa when they were small, and it being "cute" to her and to her father. Of course, their mother had laughed and then patiently explained that girls didn't marry other girls, and Anna had shrugged and asked if they could both be space pirates instead. The issue had been considered closed, but…

'Anna's always been in love with you. She always wanted to kiss you, and spend time with you, and follow you around. Made or bought you gifts. Told you how pretty you are. And now… she wants all of you.'

This time, the thought coincided with the washcloth pressing between her legs… and it felt different than it usually did. Stronger, more pronounced. Unbidden, a sound escaped from her lips.

"Oh!"

That was too much for the poor blonde. Immediately, she threw the washcloth into the corner and rinsed herself as quickly as she could, put the soap back in its cradle, and turned off the water.

There was a soft knock on the door, Anna's signature five-tap. "You okay in there?" she called through the door.

"Y-yes!" Elsa yelped as if Anna had barged right in, even though the door was firmly shut. "Sorry! I'll be out soon, I'm sorry, Anna!" Yanking the towel from the rack, she stepped out onto the mat as she began to pat down her skin.

There was silence on the other end of the door for a moment. "O-Okay, I was just going to let you know I'm going to step out for a minute to fetch something."

"Oh. Well… alright, Anna. I'll talk to you soon, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be quick." Anna said before walking away, her footsteps fading rapidly until Elsa could hear the door open and close behind her.

Sighing in relief, Elsa finished towelling off and went back into the room. She was almost grateful that she didn't have to face Anna now; not when her last few thoughts had been about their illicit passions.

By the time Anna returned, Elsa was dressed in all but her boots, ready for the last day of the week with the campers. She secretly was glad of it, as she wanted to spend some time figuring out her relationship with Anna. But it would also be good to have a bit of a buffer during the day. Maybe, if she could throw around her thoughts for long enough between distractions, she could figure out what they truly meant to each other. Just sisters, or…

The redhead held a large bar of pure white chocolate out to her sister, smiling tentatively. "Thought you could use something sweet," she offered and gave the bar a little shake. "White is still one of your favourites, right?"

"It is," she laughed as she took the bar. "Thank you, Anna."

Anna's smile grew bigger and she looked delighted. "Awesome!" She gave a little fist pump. "Okay, so what's the game plan today?"

"Well…" Clearing her throat, she began to peel open the chocolate bar. "There's breakfast, which I'm spoiling right now. After that, it's a beach day. Then… I think we're scheduled for that talk given by the representative from the First Nations."

"Alright, sounds good," she said cheerfully as she started running a brush through her hair. "And come on, chocolate is so much better than breakfast!"

Giggling at her sister's enthusiasm, she nearly forgot about everything she had been thinking up until that point. Nearly. Halfway through chewing her bite, it came back to her, and she lost her smile.

"Anna," she began after swallowing, "are you alright? Sorry. What I mean is, is everything alright? With you? This morning?"

Anna faltered only for a minute. "I'm fine." While her tone was a little more subdued than it had been seconds ago, she sounded sincere. "Are you alright?"

"I think so. But after last night, I'm not sure how I can be." Then she swallowed and licked her lips before continued, "B-but we don't have to talk about it right now. I just… just wanted to make sure you weren't… I don't know, upset because I stopped you. Or upset because we went that far, or upset for any reason at all, I guess. I don't know!"

"I'm not upset," Anna said as she reached out to pat Elsa's arm. "Last night was an accident and unless you tell me it's okay, it won't happen again. Because you're not ready, which is fine! I love you, Elsa, I can never be that mad at you." She leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Come on, let's go get the kids."

But before Anna could turn away, Elsa caught her up and pulled her into a tight embrace. She whispered into the side of her neck, "I love you, too, Anna. No matter what happens, I'm not losing sight of that again. That's a promise, Moondrop."

Anna didn't even hesitate hugging her back, letting out a shaky breath of relief that indicated just how thankful she was. "Thank you," she whispered back. "I promise I won't, either."

"Good." As they approached the door, she added onto that, "And thank you again for the chocolate. It's… it was really unhealthy for a breakfast, but also really delicious."

"I'm glad you liked it," she laughed and grinned toothily at her sister. "We all need an unhealthy breakfast from time to time!" She linked her arm with Elsa's and bumped her hip playfully against hers.

"Maybe so," she chuckled under her breath as they walked out.

Within a few minutes they were in the cafeteria, going through the line to get pancakes with syrup and bacon. Elsa couldn't help but feel her heart lighten slightly; Anna wasn't upset with her for calling a halt to their "experimenting" the night before. She had expressed a concern, and Anna hadn't even been hurt for a split second. They were going to be alright.

Or so she thought.

"Elsa? May I speak with you for a moment?" Aurora smiled sweetly as she approached the two, disregarding the confused look Anna gave her and keeping her attention on Elsa. "Alone?"

"Well…" She was too surprised to answer right away. Instead, she glanced over at Anna with a regretful look, as if to say, "Do you mind?" and "I'm sorry" at the same time. Anna shrugged and gave Elsa a light smile.

"I'll just go sit with Punzie. Feel free to join us when you're done with your talk, alright?"

Aurora nodded and grabbed Elsa's arm just a little too tightly, giving her another sweet smile. "Come on. We can talk over by the tree outside, where it's private." With that, the other blonde began to tug Elsa away.

Once they were under the shade of the tree, Elsa sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "Alright, Aurora, what is it?"

"You and Anna seem like rather close friends." The sweetness in Aurora's tone was pretty much completely gone and she gave Elsa a haughty look. "Too close, if you ask me."

"Isn't that the point of camp?" Elsa hedged, still waiting for the true reason for this conversation to become clear. "To get closer to God, and to each other?"

"Grow closer as a church, yes." Aurora crossed her arms. "We all need to learn to love thy neighbour and build strong communities that uphold our faith. However, that's not what I meant by you and Anna being close. And I think you know that."

A sinking feeling began to creep up on Elsa. However, she tried to hold it at bay; there was no possible way she could know anything. After all, their few random encounters that had been not-so-sisterly never happened where people would've been able to see. Aurora was grasping at straws.

"What do you mean, then?" she asked a little coldly.

Aurora sneered, "You two have been awfully snuggly for being just friends, Elsa — Belle told me that she saw you and Anna having a rather intimate picnic last week and Snow mentioned how she overheard some tidbits of a very interesting talk you two were having during the hike. I was willing to shrug all this off; after all, some friends are closer than others. However…" The other blonde's eyes narrowed. "You two kissed last night. That, I can't ignore."

"Belle? Snow?" Elsa breathed first, before her own eyes narrowed. "Wait, what are you talking about? We kissed? How could you have-" She caught herself before finishing that thought, incriminating as it was, but she worried it was too late. "What makes you think I kissed anyone last night?"

"I saw you," Aurora snapped, impatient now but also clearly enjoying the opportunity to come right out and say it. "I forgot my coat in the cafeteria kitchens last night and caught you and Anna kissing! I thought you were a God-fearing woman, Elsa! That's disgusting!"

All of the colour drained from her face. She saw. How could she have? When did-

Then she remembered the noise they had heard, the apron that had fallen off the counter. Of course. Someone else had been there. How could they have been so stupid?! Even though they had every reason to believe no one else could be in the kitchens at that point, there was no way to be sure — not in a public location like that! And now, it was too late. Aurora knew what they had been up to around the campgrounds, even if she only knew one tiny shred of information. That was one shred too many.

"Y-you just didn't know what you saw," she attempted in a hoarse voice.

"While I have been saving myself for the man I marry - unlike you, Elsa - I know what two people kissing looks like." Aurora glared at Elsa as her head shook very slowly. "I'm so disappointed. We all thought you were a devout Christian and I find out you're a-" She couldn't finish her sentence.

She didn't know why she was trying to deny it. Perhaps to protect Anna, or perhaps just to protect herself. But what she said was, "You don't know anything — and even if you did, you have no proof. So I d-don't know what you think you saw, but… and anyway, this is none of your concern!"

"Now I guess we can add lying to the list," Aurora tsk-ed. "It is my concern when it puts the children at risk of learning your habits." She said the word like it was poison on her tongue. "They shouldn't have to be exposed to that, Elsa! It's dangerous for their futures!"

"Maybe if you weren't stalking me, we wouldn't be having this conversation!" she couldn't help hissing angrily, trying to ignore how hot her face was likely growing. "You came to 'get your coat' — what a lie!"

"I want you to put an end to this, Elsa," the honey blonde snapped right back, ignoring the accusation. "Switch cabins and stop talking to her. I swear, if I catch you and Anna so much as looking at each other, I'll tell Father Frollo of your sins and have one or both of you evicted!"

The threat did give Elsa pause. On the other hand, she knew in her higher mind - the one that wasn't terrified at the moment - that Aurora knew nothing, and had no real proof. But if they stopped being careful, if they slipped up and let themselves be caught again, she could easily make proof at any time. All it would take is one incriminating cell phone photo and there would be dark times ahead of them.

"I'm not switching cabins," she told her, voice below zero. "And I'm not going to stop talking to Anna. You are wrong about what our friendship means, and I'm not going to let you… let you drive some wedge between us!"

The other girl drew back, looking surprised. However, it didn't take long for her surprise to melt into a furious scowl. "You met her three weeks ago, as if she means that much to you already." She rolled her eyes disdainfully. "But fine. If you want to be like that, I'll just go find the good Father right now."

"And tell him what? Make wild accusations?" Shaking her head, she took a step forward. "You wouldn't dare. Not when you have no proof. It would just make everyone uncomfortable, all over the camp, and nothing would be proven — there isn't any point, it won't get you anywhere!"

Aurora glared at Elsa for several moments before she nodded. "You're right, I don't have proof," she said. "But it won't be long until you slip up; sin always comes out, and when that happens, I'll have all the proof I need."

An enormous sigh floated out of Elsa. She knew Aurora was right; she had her dead to rights, even if she had zero proof of she and Anna's indiscretions. So she cleared her throat, tucking both hands behind her back. She could be just as much of a "frigid bitch" as the saying went.

"Fine, you seem very convinced. Just tell me what it is you want so I can get on with my day, okay?"

This smile was the worst yet: poisonous and self-satisfied. "I'll keep this brief. If me or any of the girls ask you for any favours, you and Anna have to do them. Simple, yes?"

Elsa was taken aback. After trying to wrap her mind around the statement for a few seconds, she demanded, "Are you… blackmailing me? After all that talk about 'doing what's right'?!"

Aurora shook her head. "That's a rather sinful word. I'm simply trying to make your life easier. The other girls can be rather chatty, you know, and you wouldn't want them chatting to the wrong person. I'm saying that they'll be more likely to keep their language clean if you did some favours in return." She smiled coldly. "A favour in exchange for a favour. Simple math."

For a few seconds, Elsa pondered her situation. She didn't like where it was going… but she also knew that this kind of thing could really ruin her reputation. Hers, and Anna's. That was the last thing either of them wanted, and she had a duty to protect her little sister.

Especially if she's also your girlfriend, that mean little voice in the back of her head whispered. The one that was brutally honest, and she tried to ignore.

"Listen," she hissed at Aurora. "You don't know what you're talking about, and you don't have any proof. But for the sake of keeping the peace… I'll go along with this. Within reason. If you start acting like you own this camp, the deal is off and I'll just find out what happens when you open your mouth."

"Fine. I'll be in touch. Be sure to inform your precious Anna. And do be aware that we'll be keeping an eye open." With that, Aurora left with a sharp strut.

"Who is we?!" she flung at Aurora's back. But she didn't deign to turn or answer. Sighing, she shook her head violently and stomped back inside to her sister.

Anna turned and started to smile at her sister but the smile fell almost immediately upon seeing the dark look gracing Elsa's face. "Elsa? Are you okay?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Um…"

What was the point in hedging? Seeing no alternative, Elsa told Anna everything, trying to keep her voice as calm and quiet as possible. She stuck to the facts of their situation without bringing her own emotions into it, chaotic as they were. Anna looked livid by the time Elsa was done, her teal eyes burning.

"That's awful!" she declared, forgetting to keep her voice low enough so not to drawn attention to the two of them in her anger. When Elsa shushed her, she leaned closer to whisper, "How dare they threaten you like that?!"

"She's full of hot air," Elsa grunted, cheeks burning in tandem with her anger. "There's no proof. I… I do feel bad that she caught us, but it was dark, she… there's no way she really saw anything. Just that we looked like we were kissing."

Anna huffed and looked around, noticing a few curious glances in their direction before she reached out and grabbed Elsa's arm, giving it a little tug. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter."

"Can we? I thought… well, shouldn't we get back to the campers? After we finish our food, I mean."

Anna's mouthed a silent curse and nodded. "Tonight. We really should discuss this and what we should do."

"We should. For now…" Sighing, she ran fingers through her fringe again. "Okay. Let's just agree to keep denying that any kissing happened. No need to tell lies, that's only going to make things worse, just… tell them they're stupid for believing it. And avoid confirming. That's… that's the best we can do without disappointing God by creating huge falsehoods."

"Okay." She let out a long sigh as she nodded. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position. What are we going to do about the others? Are we just going to… do those 'favours'?"

"Well, I told her 'within reason'. If they start asking us to do anything really humiliating in front of the other campers, I'd say that crosses the line. But if they keep it to simple things…" Shrugging and sighing, she pursed her lips. "This is going to be annoying. Just use your best judgment."

The redhead took Elsa's hand in her own, giving it a warm squeeze. "We'll get through this. What's the worst they can do?"

Famous last words. She gave an optimistic grin, but it was one Elsa did not quite share.

                                               To Be Continued...

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Kim Hoseok, spotted prancing about in the Southwest Side. I remember seeing him with The Musketeers back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say secretive and loyal? Apparently now he spends time as a personal bodyguard and a university student, and keeps skeletons buried at Geumsang apartment complex, A105. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Apollo; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

Party, sex, hangover, school - repeat. Back in high school Hoseok, then known as Lee Wonho, was apart of the Musketeers and never missed a chance to party, to find himself someone to warm his bed and naturally drink heavily over what was healthy. Back then only a small amount of his life was reserved for studying or family, the latter never bothering him either. After all his father was busy building an empire together with his mother, thus why would they notice their son experimenting with alcohol and picking up smoking. In the end one could ask - does he even have parents? Only three people lived under one roof, connected by vows and blood. Nothing more or less. Thus Wonho found his family in the Musketeers, found affection with the bed companions of both sexes and naturally tried to keep his head above water at school. High school was mostly fun and games, where every night there was a reason to party and have fun with his mates - worrying about the future seemed like too much stress. Once sober and done with those boring classes, he would hit the swimming pool and gym - after all his looks were used to find himself sexual partners and a healthy body meant he would survive the partying.  Picking up the image of a rather good looking fuckboy, he didn’t care what someone else thought of him as long as his friends knew the truth. Even then his loyalty to the other Musketeers was a rather odd addition to his image, yet still used against him to paint the male as a simple follower. Whatever suited the gossipers. This way he would never answer to what was going on in his family, his home life a cold Antarctica where the only affection he was shown came from his mother and even that rarely. Being a Musketeer and fuckboy was easier.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

Last year in his masters, studying the architectural history and planning solutions of Korea, Japan and China, Kim Hoseok is the personal bodyguard to the famous model Lee Hanbyeol. Having cleaned up his act, the male now hides his Cheongnam past and hopes it never comes to life, as it is a very black spot on his life and he rather not have any memories of it. Mother sixth feet under ground, father in New York City with his lover - in the end it was easier to build himself a new life with new friends and a healthier way of living. Known on campus as a promising talent in his respective field and a professors darling, he enjoys his work for Lee Hanbyeol and daily focus to show his loyalty. To him who he used to be died the day his mother did and now proudly carrying his given name shows the world he has changed. Kim Hoseok is now a healthy member of society, working a job he finds enjoyment in and studying what is dear to his heart. A wonderful new restart he doesn’t want to lose. Especially since his new life did come with a price he never expected and doesn’t know to resent yet.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

i. Do not think that what I was in the past I am now. Do not assume you know someone, when they were occupied with growing up and finding their spot in the world. Do not feel disappointed that I don’t care for hurt feelings of the past. Do not push your own feelings onto me. That man does not exist anymore and lays buried six feet under ground, embracing his mother.

ii. With the first warm night of spring Kim Hoseok was born into an old money family - his mother hadn’t worked a day in her life and father comfortably sat on the board of his wives fathers company. He himself came from a wealthy family, yet didn’t show interest for the company and chose a less stress filled life.  With all the time in the world they dedicated themselves to raising their child, however cracks were there and deepened even if they lost themselves in childcare. A child had been used as the final glue to keep together a facade of lies - with every passing years the cracks became more defined and Hoseok couldn’t erase them. They tried, wished and prayed - even saw the passing of Hoseok’s grandfather on the fathers side as a chance to work together  to save everything, but no use. Some people aren’t meant to be together.

iii. Such discord worked itself in Hoseoks life and once high school started he felt without a family. Yet his friends Chanyeol and Wonshik were the two who slowly seemed to give him the support needed to feel like he had someone, who cared about him and made sure he was okay. Add to that money could buy ones way into any party, into any bed and any heart. One night affection seemed good enough, worked long enough - like a drug that you didn’t realize you were on. High school was wild, fun and freeing - true family life was eclipsed by it and happily ignored. Hoseok’s parents grew apart, grew distant and nearly estranged - naturally he didn’t fail to notice and silently ignored it, trying to live his own life to the best of his abilities. The boy was close to his mother, disconnected from his father. Being close to someone is the true poison. With the end of Cheongnam nearing the scandal around Wonshik happened and Hoseok wasn’t man enough to stand by him, seemingly out of pure jealousy and yet the truth was worse. Lies sometimes seem better covers. Being secretive was better than handling public attention. He had been brought into the cold hard reality, which he had been trying to ignore and push aside for so long - yet here it was staring at him with cold dead eyes. Only through accident had he found out that his mother was deathly ill, had been for the whole time he partied away his problems and barely spent enough time with her. One last summer had been given to her and that he spent with her, every single waking moment of it. She told him about her life, her dreams and passions which had to take a back seat because her father had held her back. She showed him her love for art history, for architecture and the greats of the past - under her watchful gaze he fell in love with it. Just like she had so many years ago. Those three months she smiled so angelically and with said calm peaceful smile she passed away in her sons arms. In pieces and heart broken he buried his mother.

iv. Unable to cope with the pain he bought a ticket to Lisbon, packed what needed and left a note to his father. He fled the life, friends and loved ones he knew. So much now to hold as a secret, to digest and understand - with the current image impossible to do. A whole year away, a whole year of self discovery and heart ache. A year to change, to shed off his former bad boy image and in silence, one summer early morning, return to his home country from Finland. To his luck people forgot, moved on and were wrapped up with new scandals.

v. What welcomed him? A heavy blow out of the dark. Hoseoks father told his son after one or twenty too many shots about his double life, about how little of the money was still there and how he had hated being married to that woman. How he had a boyfriend in Busan for the past fifteen years, found himself in drag and for the past year been saving up to leave this small minded country. How he was no longer wishing to be seen as Hoseok father, wanting to disappear and start fresh in NY as ‘Lady LaBoombayah!’. After everything entered his grandfather mothers side - a stern man and told his grandson that from now on he hopes to see a proper young lad. Going on about how the families had made sure the good for nothing father for the young male wouldn’t spend every dime and was only left in the belief there wasn’t much left. He finally expressed his wish to have a more proper heir to the money and business, a smart young man who knows what the word ‘loyalty’ meant. Hoseok agreed and they made a deal - in respect to his mother he would study what she never could and live a quiet life with comfort. He would not be asked to step up as heir as long as his grandfather was alive and kicking.

vi. Autumn came and he entered Seoul National University, studying the beautiful architectural history of China, Japan and Korea. Naturally with the connections of his grandfather it was easy to get in, but a lot to work to stay and show he was worth the money spent on him. To keep up the rouse around his persona of a university student on a simple scholarship, Hoseok entered training to become a bodyguard and use his athletic talent for money. Balancing both was hard, of course, but he pushed himself to manage and not let himself slip back into the Cheongnam days.vii. It was winter when he met Lee Hanbyeol, a cat like model in need of a bodyguard and Hoseok eager to prove himself too the job. Loyal, on time and ready to throw himself in front of the model, Hoseok found himself enjoying the job and his employer even though it was at times hard to fully understand him.

viii. On the last leg of finishing his masters and debating on going on to get his professors title, Hoseok is truly a changed man compared to the days of Cheongnam. Barely drinks, never smokes and his head in the game the male still is showing his grandfather he would not disgrace the memory of his mother and be worth the investment. It seems like such a simple life to whomever views it from the outside, but the broad shouldered often smiling made hides secrets in his heart no one should never know. Try as he might he is apart of this circle of Cheongnam high school and shall never shake it off.

8th September 2017

I woke up at 0700. Stupid body clock! Where is my lay-in?! Steve was still asleep so I tried to sneak out to the toilet and get my phone off charge. He woke up and asked what the time was. I told him it was 0700 and that I was going back to sleep. He rolled over and slept more. I did try to go back to sleep but my mind was awake and running 100mph already. I laid there and flicked through my phone. Steve woke up properly around 0830. 

We needed some food bits for breakfast so we got dressed and went over to IGA. We got bread and I picked up the cheapest one there which is never in stock. Steve said I was stupid because it was only 50c cheaper but every penny counts! We walked around and got some deals that were on offer. We managed to get a litre of Fab washing liquid for $4 which smelt great. We also got 2 packets of chicken on sale for $4.99 each. They were reduced because they go off tomorrow but luckily in this hostel, we have freezers! It’s very exciting. I also found 24 pack of cans on sale for £9.99 which is cheaper than Coles. I grabbed a box of Pepsi Max which is my favourite soft drink. 

We got back and I was waiting for the office to be open so I could go in to ask Leonie if I could use her scales. She had some behind the counter the other night when I went in but I couldn’t weigh myself because it was late in the afternoon. I had been to the office already 4 times today to check if they were open yet and they weren’t. I wasn’t going to eat or drink until I weighed. Eventually, she was there and I managed to pay our rent. I’ve lost 3kg since we’ve been at the farm which is great even though I don’t look it or feel it. Hopefully I can continue losing weight. I’m back to my absolute biggest which is rubbish. 

When I got back to the room, Steve was gone. He walked to IGA, again, but with Matt. Steve wanted the 24 pack of Solo which is like Lemonade but much more lemony. He came back and bought some food for us to have a BBQ lunch which was on offer. To be fair, the pack he bought was actually a bargain. It was one packet with 4 sausages, 2 burgers, 2 steaks for $6 each. I was excited for lunch already. We went over to the kitchen and Steve cooked us bacon on the BBQ for a bacon sandwich for breakfast. Everyone was there cooking their big breakfasts. Happy Friday! We sat in the entertainment room to eat and then I went off to wash up. I went to the room to put the stuff back and saw Cait. I went over and chatted to her. She was feeling very hungover and had been sick 3 times already this morning. Poor thing. She felt like it was very undeserved as she only had one bottle of cider (1.25l). That’s the cider that makes Steve ridiculously drunk. It’s great stuff. Little Fat Lamb it’s called and they do a variety of flavours - Tropical, Apple, Lemon, Strawberry & Lime, Ginger. We’ve only had the apple and strawberry but apparently tropical and lemon are the best. We’re going to work our way through and decide for ourselves. Steve came down to the southside and asked whether I was lost. I laughed and then he said everyone was going to Murray Falls and asked whether we wanted to go. I said no because we went there last weekend and I don’t like going to places we aren’t meant to be. There are allocated swimming areas in the falls but not where backpackers go. I don’t want a fine that can be up to $20,000. I have not got that… Also, it was midday already and they had to be back before 1600 for hair appointments that had been previously booked. I really wanted to spend the day relaxing by the pool in the sun. I wouldn’t get much sun at Murray Falls because it takes 40 minutes to get there. Nope, I wasn’t going. Steve was going to go but decided against it last minute. Matt came towards our room just before leaving and Ciar shouted my name… I had a parcel! A massive box! How exciting! I knew that this was from Mum. Steve and I have two parcels coming each from my Dad and Ange, and I had an extra one coming from mum. I needed some of my summer clothes from home as I have hardly anything. I also asked for face creams and masks because my skin needed help. It’s in the sun a lot from now on so I needed a hydrating cream of some sort. She always sends great parcels and I got lots of lovely new things. I’m very spoilt. She’s found a cheap, quicker way to send parcels. I will ask her what company because Dad sent his parcels before Mum did. I was so happy. She always sends a card which I keep. They’re lovely. I love reading her words and having something so personal from home. I got my bag ready to go to the pool and got my cosie on. Steve said he was too hot and bothered already to go to the pool so he was going to stay and chill in the room - his loss! I walked to the pool which I had to myself. I put my towel down and chilled out. Steve doesn’t read the blogs anymore so I can say that I spent my time wisely looking for things to do for his birthday. I’ve come to the conclusion that I cannot afford the two things I picked but I’ll do more digging. We did agree on not doing anything for birthday’s this year but I love them so much I can’t help myself. I bought his card in June as I knew we’d be at the farm with nowhere that sells cards. I’m a smart cookie. Max, a German guy, came down to the pool and chilled. Eventually, another German girl joined him but I don’t know her name. Adam came and sunbathed for an hour too. I had started reading my new book that Steve bought me. I was getting quite hot on my lounger and text Steve to see if he would deliver water to me for $2 as I forgot my bottle. He did, and didn’t ask for money so who’s the real winner here. I didn’t have any to give him though but let’s not tell him that. I went for a quick dip and then sat on the side of the pool reading more. I decided to go over to the bed but as I stood up out of the pool, I felt my right thigh muscle just tear and pop. It was the most sickening sensation I have ever felt in my life. My heart dropped to my stomach and I immediately felt like I was going to throw up. I started to feel faint and laid on the grass. Adam came over and asked whether I was okay and rang Steve for me. Steve came down and tried to get me off the floor but I couldn’t move my leg. I was in absolute agony. Why does this ALWAYS happen to me? I’m an accident prone and I get it from my father. It took me ages to get from the pool to the room whilst holding in my tears. I would’ve reacted a lot different if I wasn’t at the pool with people I weren’t comfortable with. I got into the room and just cried my heart out. I couldn’t straighten it or bend it. It was just a big pulsating piece of muscley pain.  Steve laid me down and put a bag of frozen veg on my thigh. It was horrible. It went swollen so quickly. My mum and Dad told me that the only way to heal it, is to rest it. Well, just great. I hope to the heavens that this feels better quickly. I can’t walk or sit down. I wanted to sunbathe but now I was stuck in bed. Steve went to make us our BBQ lunch. I felt hungry but unwell at the same time. He came back and I took a few bites. I felt full and sick straight away. The pain was overbearing. I got into bed and laid there feeling sorry for myself. I put a film on my phone using YouTube as the wifi was working for some reason. Steve left and chilled up northside with whomever was around. He was back and forth like a yoyo though, forgetting things and what not. He went to IGA again with Matt as Matt wanted chicken for dinner. He must’ve been bored, that’s the third time he’s been today. He did pick me up a cold bandage which was ideal. We didn’t realise that it was soaked in Dettol smelling water. It went all over the bed. My leg started to feel slightly better as time went on. I got the laptop out to try and look at East Coast trips and campervans. We would love to hire a campervan in Cairns and drive it down to Sydney. The experience would be unreal but it depends how much money we can get saved here. It’s annoying not knowing our budget to see what we can and can’t do. We rely on pieces of fruit and the market. We put the TV on in the background and realised it was already 1930. Wow. Time has flown by… The film ‘Inside Out’ was on which is a brilliantly thought out Disney film. It’s great. I ended up watching that whilst doing my blogs. Steve was playing a golf game on his phone that he’s addicted too. He spends hours on end playing it - it drives me up the wall! It’s now 2230 and Horrible Bosses is on TV. My blogs are finally up to date and I’m in bed nursing a torn quad… I feel so stupid right now. I'm starting to get hungry too but I'll just wait for breakfast now.

(Day 2) The Childhood Friend

It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen Jacob. His phone sends me to voicemail for the seventh time, and I wonder if I’ve been too clingy. I’ve only sent him ten text messages and seven calls in the last few weeks, each carefully thought over and debated before inevitably unlocking my smartphone, but I had to talk to him about that night. Things were weird, and I definitely didn’t want to end things like this.

“That night” was a Friday. I had came home to my apartment after work tired. I threw the chinese I’d picked up on the dining table, and quietly ate as I stared through the blinds. The sun had just finished setting, and the streetlights would be on soon. The clock had told me it was seven, and I hadn’t realized how quiet the house was until twenty minutes later. I turned to the news: another shooting had happened somewhere downtown, and an accident happened this afternoon, which was why traffic was more shit than usual.

It wasn’t until I threw away the chinese that the doorbell buzzed. Jacob stood there in the doorway, cheesing. It was weird seeing such a toothy smile with his goatee.

“Ready for cards?” Jacob asked while pushing past me inside.

Cards, of course.

I’d forgotten we play cards nearly every weekend, the four of us. Angela would carpool with Rick every weekend. We would take turns buying booze and I had the cards at my place, Jacob had extras somewhere in the drawers in case I lost the other deck. Today had been such a shit day at work that I forgot.

“Angela and Rick aren’t coming tonight, they’re going on a trip,” Jacob set down the booze on the table.

The trip to New York was also meant for all four of us, but I didn’t have the money and Jacob had some sick family member he wanted to stay near. I nodded at him and locked the door, then took out the cards.

“What’s wrong? Long day at work?”

“Yeah,” I say with a deep sigh. Normally I’d probably be talking his ear off, saying how I’d definitely beat him this time around.

“You gonna talk about it?”

I smile a bit, “Nah, let’s just play.” Jacob starts shuffling the cards. It’s always been like this, I think. I’ve known Jacob since we were kids, I mostly played with the other boys on my block because I didn’t like playing the games the other girls did. I liked football even though I was smaller than the others, and I could run around as long as my legs would let me. I hated playing nerf though, I always felt like an idiot.

Jacob just kind of stuck around. My parents were convinced that we would date in high school, but it never happened. Jacob was always laid back, and so was I.

We ended up playing strip poker. I held my left arm after I felt a cool breeze and glanced at my shirt on the floor. Jacob was shirtless too, and pantsless, but he wasn’t half as flustered as I was. He just kept staring at the cards in his hands, his curly dark locks shrouding his face. His hazel-green eyes swept up to mine, and I take a moment to catch my breath and look down at my cards. Jacob was kind of muscular, I knew that, but he wasn’t swole like the other guys in the city. I liked that, I liked his slightly toned abs and slightly toned arms. It never made me think he would snap my ass in half.

“You’re tense.” I hear the scratch of the chair against the floor and a few heavy footsteps before Jacob’s hands reach my shoulders. I slam my cards down in fear of him cheating and my eyes slowly turn to the TV. We had put a horror movie on but had ignored most of it, we liked background noise anyway. The bottle of whatever Jacob had brought was strong, and I’m sure I was drunk already.

“Let’s watch the movie,” Jacob was about to lose anyway, I’m sure he was thinking of a way to save his own ass. I stand up and pull away from his hand squeezing and rubbing my shoulders. I plop on the couch loudly and bury myself beneath the sheets, staring at the young girl twisting her limbs on a staircase, another woman watching her in terror.

There’s a long pause before Jacob decides to move. When he does, he plops next to me as well, my face feels warm as I hold back a few hiccups. The movie drags on. When I feel his warm body press against mine my eyes fly open. He smelled nice, like spices and coffee.

I paid no mind to the movie. I did everything else but watch the movie, I kissed his neck, felt his hands on my skin, felt him unhook the back of my bra, pressed my warm body against his, but we did not watch that damn movie. Or the one that played after that, or the one after that.

I can’t say it wasn’t the first time this happened, it happened once before, in college. But that was a long time ago too.

In the morning Jacob was gone and the TV was off. I was fully tucked in my bed with a bad headache, and the light bleeding through the window burned.

I tried to call him plenty of times after that, and text him. But he hadn’t answered, he also hadn’t showed up for any cards either. Angela and Rick were back in now, and I told Angela what happened. She was just as stumped as I was, but she said she couldn’t get to him either.

The air is cool against my face. A few leaves smack into my coat before falling to the ground, but the brisk walk from my car to Jacob’s front door was short. I ring the doorbell: once, twice, three times. I sigh, his car was in the driveway, so he was probably home. I couldn’t think of where he would be on a Sunday evening besides grocery shopping.

I would like to think that Jacob isn’t that kind of guy, at least he never seemed that way . . . but I could always be wrong. I dig in my bag and pulled out the spare key Jacob gave me. ‘Mi casa es tu casa,’ he told me when he bought his first house, I used to show up unannounced all the time. Until I interrupted him with one of his girlfriends and stopped showing up when she kept bitching about it.  

The door creaks way too loudly as the light leaks in. I can’t bring myself to make any noise as I stare at the mess. Everything was on the floor: his TV, his couch pillows, the coats from his coat rack, broken glass from an overturned lamp. The paintings by the stairwell laid haphazardly, and the foot of a chair peaked out from the kitchen. The wind closes the door behind me, and I feel my body shaking from the large inhale I take in. My hand digs into my back pocket, wrapping around my phone, but I don’t dial any number. I walk towards his basement, afraid of the open door.

I turn on the light and flinch at the loudness my feet make against the wooden stairs. There’s heavy breathing, hoarse breathing, like the breathing of a smoker or someone with asthma. Like someone who’s having trouble bringing oxygen into their body. It’s coming in through their mouth, not the nose. Near the bottom, I see Jacob’s foot, his shoe was on but his jeans were stained in something dark.

Dark red liquid pools around the leg, and I pause on the last step.

“Jacob?” I hear the mumble voice mumble something unintelligible, and there’s the sound of something moving.

I thrust my legs further, seeing Jacob in his entirety on the floor under the basement light: legless and armless. He was missing his right leg and his left arm. The left leg was the one I saw closest to the stairs, the bone protruding from the skin, the dark pinky or red-looking skin tissue around it made me want to puke. I didn’t even see his arm anywhere nearby. Jacob was crawling towards me, still making his god awful breathing noises.

“. . . anna . . Johanna . . . Johanna . . .”

My hands were shaking, I took a few steps back, before hearing the shuffling of a paper. Under my foot I saw a written note:

“It was fun.” No signature, no names.

“Johanna . . . call 911,” I feel his hand clench my foot, and I let out a squeak. I begin unlocking my phone, a million questions running through my head.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Check

Skeptic If you're anything like I was, you can read a hundred of these scary stories and not be too disturbed. Spooky dolls mischievously grinning at you? Check. Ancient secrets revealed in some simple ritual? Check. Something from beyond coming for you, now that the author told you about it? Check. Its just words on a page, right? Yeah I used to think that too. In fact, I used to be just like you, enjoying each and every spooky fix and spine shiver that M. Night Shyamalan and Stephen King had to offer. I don't do that anymore, not after last year. It happened completely randomly. I was just off from working a extended shift at a shipping warehouse. I didn't own a car, so I had to rely on either a buddy of mine picking me up or taking the public bus for two hours home. Turns out the management had overestimated the amount of work they had for us, which meant we'd get off early. To everyone else, that was great news. To me, that meant I had to wait for 2 to 3 hours before my buddy could come get me. Either that, or take the bus and get home about half an hour early. I figured it was a wash either way, so I decided to wander around downtown for a while. No sooner than ten minutes of wandering and I find one of those Psychic palm reader studios, or whatever they're called. Remember, back then I didn't believe in any of this nonsense. I was planning on putting down five bucks and letting them bullshit me for twenty minutes. I knew what I doing; or at least I thought I did. Don't get me wrong, up until I actually sat down in front of the psychic, they put on a good show. Darkened rooms, talked in whispers, the whole nine yards. It even had a fairly modern tone to it all. No billowy smoke coming out from under the table or some stupid shit like that. You'll never guess what the psychic said when I finally walked in the room to meet her though. "I can't take your money," her words had a plainness to them, like it was a simple statement of fact. Somewhere, deep in my collective 26 years of experience, I remembered something a buddy told me about old cons. 'The best way to convince someone to give you money is to convince them you don't want it.' Throws off their guard. "Why's that?" I asked, pensively. "You don't believe," she replied. I looked her up and down. No funny wig. No stupid hooped earrings. She was actually somewhat slender too, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. Had I met her anywhere other than here, I might have tried to pick her up. The only couple of things to set the 'tone' of the place were the dim lights and faint incense on the table in the back of the room. After some back and forth, she agreed to explain exactly what she meant. Magic, it seems, is a force of the mind. It has the power to do extraordinary things, but only to those that recognize its power. Things that we called 'faith' and 'paranormal' and all that are really just manifestations of our own inner power. It all boiled down to belief - Only if you actually believe in this mystical universal truth could you be affected by it. Skeptics, like me, were denied the benefits of self realization. She explained that was probably a good thing, as there were many skeptics in the world. "Why?" I asked, casually. "If Magic is as good as you say it is, what's the harm?" I guess I should have seen her answer coming. "Not all magic that can help or hurt someone comes from them," she explained. "You ever have people pray for you? Or wished ill on someone you didn't like? In a church they call it faith. Down south, they call it voodoo. I call it magic. But really, its just the power of the mind making things real." It wasn't a bad line, and I waited on the catch. You know, the part of the con where they ask you for all your money. I must have looked dirt poor, because she didn't ask me for any. Instead, she put a small, tan figurine in my hand. It was very plain, about half the size of my hand, like one of those plastic action figures you'd get at any department store, only slightly smaller. "This will be you," she explained. "If you want to open yourself to magic, all you have to do is wish kind thoughts for this doll. The more you believe your good karma will affect it, the more you will allow yourself to be affected by magic." I got up to leave. Somehow, we had already been there 45 minutes. As I was getting up to go, her face turned more serious and she leaned in, as if telling me a secret. "Just be sure this is what you want," she whispered. "Right now, it is as if there is a door between us, blocking us from seeing each other. The more you open that door, the more you will feel the effects of the divine upon you. And once you open yourself to this great mystery fully, it cannot be undone. You will find yourself more affected by prayers, more susceptible to the paranormal, more in tune with the occult." That last little bit unnerved me a little, but I quickly brushed it aside. I said my goodbye's, stuffed the little voodoo me doll into my pocket, and made my way back to meet my buddy. Naturally, I did what any rational thinking human being would do with a trinket like that; I stuffed it in a sock drawer and completely forgot about it. Most people would expect burying myself in effigy would cause some kind of real trauma, that's how magic works right? The catch though is that I didn't believe in it, so it had no power to do a damn thing. Without the power of the mind to empower it, it was just a poorly made G.I. Joe in my sock drawer. It must have been a couple of months later that I found the thing while quickly getting ready for work. Vaguely remembering the encounter with the cute psychic, I casually decided to put it up on my dresser and wish it a pleasant day. There was no earth shattering crescendo of good luck that followed. To be honest, I don't even remember whether I had a good day or not. But what did happen was that I was making a little game of wishing 'myself' good fortune every morning. For the next couple of months, things really started picking up for me. At first it was little things, like finding money or saying just the right thing at a party. Then it escalated into random good fortune. A friend of a friend hooked me up with a better job. I finally moved into a new apartment, which I came across by accident just before the owner listed it. I even found myself a new girlfriend. Her name was Cindy. Blue eyes, dusty blond hair and a tight ass. Not perfect, but fun to talk to. To be honest, that's where the trouble started, but not for the reasons you'd think. I had bumped into my dresser one day and accidentally knocked the little guy onto the floor. Picking him up, I noticed something odd. It was smiling. Not like Exorcist turned to face me and smile or any stupid shit like that, but I do remember when I got the damn thing that there was no expression at all on it. But now it had a slight grin, like what you would see on a Lego man or something. I counted it off to just not remembering correctly. I put my little effigy back on my dresser, gave it a goodbye kiss on the cheek and went on with my day. That weekend was the night my new-found girlfriend decided it was time to fuck me. Whatever came over Cindy was a little out of the ordinary, even for my standards. It was then, lying there naked and exhausted, that I started putting the pieces together. I had been obliviously engaging in this stupid little morning ritual, and my life had really taken a turn for the better. Hell, I was about to buy a car; a nice one too, if I could manage it. So I decided to put on a little experiment. On my way home, I went to a toy store and bought one of those little matchbox cars. Nothing too fancy, just a plain blue car. I stuck it under my little G.I. Joe and waited. It took about a week. A buddy of mine was down on his luck and needed some cash. He had just lost his job and had to unload his car. Not thinking at all about my little voodoo experiment, I went ahead to check the car out. He opened his garage and I took along look. Blue. And he was practically giving it to me. Had I at least a little good sense, I'd have turned him down and put that little doll back in the sock drawer. But I was on a 'voodoo' high. Driving the car home, I started to think of all the cool shit I was going to 'conjure' for myself. New clothes, nice raise ... hell, even a new girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, Cindy was a nice girl. But if I could have found myself a little plastic Courtney Hansen and red matchbox convertible ... well, you get the picture. So all this good shit was happening to me and I didn't even blink when Cindy broke up with me. She had good reason to; I had been kissing a gorgeous blond in the back room of our favorite hang out. 'Ah, to hell with her', I thought to myself. 'I've got fuckin voodoo, what'd I need her for anyway ....' I didn't get laid that night. Instead, in a drunken haze I had fallen over and ended up with a concussion. After spending the night at the hospital, I came home and crashed on my bed. "You let me down little guy," I joked, glancing over at my dresser. My little good luck effigy was gone. I wasn't hard to guess who took it. I had casually told Cindy about the little 'experiment' I was undergoing. You would think that she would take my house key and smash in my car windows or trash my room or something. Instead she takes my good luck charm. Turns out that was much worse. The next day, I'm standing in the shower, imagining all the terrible things she could do with my action figure, and I'm washing my hair. The water starts to feel especially hot. 'Not unusual', I think to myself. That can happen in an apartment building. Eyes closed, I reach over to turn the handle slightly and turn it down ... and the damn temperature goes up. When that happens to a person, the natural reaction is to yank the thing to cold, hard. As I grabbed the handle again, a searing pain shoots through my hand. Opening my eyes, I saw the handle practically smoking with heat. In the few seconds I had a grip on it, I had yanked the thing all the way to cold, and the damn thing was hot as an iron. So was the water. The only thing I could think to do was ungracefully eject myself from the shower by slamming through the side door. After carefully using an old broom handle to shut off the water, I went and checked my bedroom mirror to inspect the damage. I had 2nd degree burns all over my back and part of the upper side of my right arm. I knew the best thing to do was run it under some cold water; the trouble was finding some. Not trusting the plumbing, I used the water from my kitchen fridge, taping the handle to keep it open and redirecting it to my back by letting it flow down my arms. I must have looked like a complete idiot that morning. Next day, nothing. Other than scalded sores that itch like hell, I had a perfectly normal day. I had bandaged some of the bigger boils to keep myself from popping them. What I wanted to do was stretch my back out against that tree in front of our building and rake them all open, but my good sense knew that doing that would make them worse. God, they sure did itch though. I was coming home from work a day later when my instincts got the better of me and I accidentally popped one of those damn sores just under my arm. I could feel the small amount of fluid seep into my sleeve as I opened the front door to my apartment. I left the window open again. That usually meant mosquitoes. I reached up to pull it shut when I noticed - and felt - something skitter down my upper arm. I hated bugs. I once went an half hour out of my way to kill a housefly that had invaded my room when I was 16. As far as bug hunting goes, I was pretty good. But not noticing this little critter sooner and letting it get all the way to my back had me irked. It must have stopped moving because I couldn't 'sense' where it was anymore. I'd have introduced the whole of my back to the wall, but my recent injury and common sense prevented me from sending the little demon back to whatever bug hell awaited it. Besides, my burned back was too numb to be sure exactly where it was anyway. I felt movement again, this time at the left side of my back. Stripping off my shirt, I made my way into the bathroom and turned my back to the mirror. Strange. I couldn't see it. I could definitely 'feel' it there, but the combination of dim lighting and obscured vision (I was looking behind me at the mirror) made the bugger impossible to find. I was never very flexible, but I figured I could kill the damn thing anyway by simply reaching over and crushing it, regardless of sight. I lashed out with my right hand, my fingers landing squarely where I knew it was. There was a satisfying, ever so slight squish that let me know I'd struck gold. Breathing a sigh of relief, I reached over and flicked the light switch on. I could feel the slight trickle of more fluid on my back; I had accidentally popped another blister. Craning my neck, I used the mirror to find the spot on my left side where I'd smashed the bug. I felt movement again, this time on the right side of my back. But I couldn't SEE anything. Terrified that whatever it was could be under the bandages, I reached both arms over my head and stripped them off. The quick turning motion combined with the bandage tape had popped even more of my blisters. The bigger ones gave way, relief flooding over me as the itching subsided. That relief faded as I looked in the mirror. They weren't crawling on top of my sores, they were crawling out from them. Scores of teeny, tiny arachnids emerging from my open wounds, spreading out in many directions. I abandoned all sense of reason and threw myself at the opposite wall, contorting myself in as many positions as possible to crush the miniature invaders. As I squirmed, I could feel my other blisters break, revealing the insects within. They were all over me, breaking away in multiple directions to evade the certain death of my contorting frame madly arching against the wall. My next instinct was to jump into the shower, crank it to full and wash them off. I reached out for the handle and caught myself. 'Bad idea', I mumbled. A moment of clarity hit me, and I grabbed a washcloth off the basin before turning it on. Testing the water tentatively, I quickly ascertained it safe before jumping in. It was way too cold, but I had been used to short cold showers ever since I had been scalded. I quickly rinsed myself from head to toe and jumped out of the shower, making sure to remove my pants and shoes and scrub them out as well. With the cold water still running, I collapsed into a heap on the shower floor, weeping uncontrollably. I was shaking, both from the freezing cold water and knowledge that what I had just experienced was something very paranormal. When I had regained a bit of composure, I looked around the bathroom to find a complete disaster. Firstly, there was a huge Rorschach blot on the wall of smashed spiders, bodily fluids, and blood. The irony was palpable. Usually you took a Rorschach test to see if you were crazy. In this case, the markings on the wall were the undeniable proof that I was not. There were still loose spiders here and there. As I killed them, I came to a decision ... I had to make peace with Cindy. I knew it wouldn't be easy. I'd have to do a lot of apologizing. I didn't care; I had to get her to stop this stupid shit and leave me alone. I pulled the number off of my address list on my computer and nervously dialed. "Hello?" I heard her familiar voice and calmed my voice. "Hey, its me. Don't hang up," despite my best attempts, my voice was cracking. There was a long pause, then she spoke. "I'm still here," she seemed unusually calm. "I just ... I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am ...." I couldn't keep my composure. "I'm o.k. with it. I mean, I thought you were different; that we had a good thing, you know. But you're not the first guy to fuck around on me. If you're looking for closure or something, don't. I'm fine. I mean, I'm still a little pissed at you ...." Something was off. She started to trail off into some long explanation about moving on and being O.K. with herself, the way men are, and the whole world. Had we still been together, it'd have been a great philosophical discussion. Like I said, she's easy to talk to. But the strange thing was that this didn't sound like some crazy bitch who'd be pissed enough at me to start voddoo cursing crazy shit. No sooner than I realize this than she said something that instantly caught my attention: "...you know I was so mad that day that I stormed off without leaving you a note where your key was. I just left it in your sock drawer with your stupid 'me' doll, or whatever the hell you call it." I stammered, but not because I was broken up about her. "So, you're really O.K. then?" "Yeah. Sweet for you to call though. Believe it or not, I actually feel a bit better. Take care of yourself." "You too," I hung up the phone and dashed into my room. I ripped out the sock drawer and spread the contents on my bed. The little me doll spilled out, face down by my pillow. If Cindy didn't have it, and I didn't have it, who the hell was using it to fuck up my life so much. I turned the little bastard over, and saw that it was smiling even wider. Not a little Lego man smirk either. No casual smile this time. It was a full on, splayed wide, Joker meets Batman grin. Jesus fucking Christ. I could even see its little white teeth, fitting together loosely just the way mine did. I had to get rid of this thing. But how? If I stuffed it in a plastic bag and threw it in the river, would I meet the same fate? How do you dispose of your own voodoo doll? My stomach turned. Maybe that was the whole point of voodoo; the victim is so fucked over by the end of it all that it really doesn't matter what you do with the doll. There was only one person left who had any hope of exorcising this little evil me. I grabbed the cursed thing by the feet and grabbed my car keys. Being careful to lie it face down on the dash, I buckled my seat-belt and drove out into the night, making my way as quickly as possible to that psychic that had started this whole mess. I made a hard right turn on 5th avenue, the kind of jarring twist that spills your coffee in you lap. Little me responded by rolling across my dash, landing sideways in front of my steering wheel, face up. "You think you're REALLY fucking funny, don't you," I yelled at my effigy. The silence of the drive was only broken by the occasional thump of rubber tire against the pavement. "You goddamn Mattel reject. Answer me," I muttered. I looked over to see its eyes - my eyes - turned ever so slightly from its normal, straight ahead gaze. Although it was splayed horizontally out in front of my dashboard and facing the ceiling of the car, it was definitely looking right at me. "Goddamn it you little fucker! Just DIE!" I was just approaching the downtown intersection when I noticed I couldn't stop. My brakes had gone out. "Shit." Luckily for me, I was driving a manual. I started frantically downshifting and letting out the clutch, hoping the car's engine could slow me down enough in time to avoid the oncoming local downtown traffic. Forth gear. The hum of the overextended engine and jolt of the car did nothing to ease my panic. Third gear. Goddamn, those cars were getting close. Second gear. I felt a sense of relief. I may just hit them, but if I can time it o.k. it won't kill me. First gear. I sauntered up to the intersection and let the lack of gas stall the engine. It was flat ground, and I rolled to a stop. I was able to restart the engine, pull over, and find a metered parking spot. Little me had fallen on the floor, so I picked him up and - without looking at him - stuffed him into my pocket. My old work wasn't far from where I was, so I put my jacket on, got out of my car, and made the 10 minute walk there. It took me a while to find the place. I knew where I used to work. I knew it was within walking distance, and yet it still took me a good hour to finally find it. After entering, describing the person I had to talk to and finding a seat, I waited another good hour before she could finally see me. "Cracked the door open a bit I see," she remarked, looking me up and down. I explained to her about the figurine, the turn in luck, the girlfriend, the ex-girlfriend, everything. Some parts she even filled in for me before I could get them out. After it all, I jumped ahead to the thing that was really bothering me ... "What about the doll?" I inquired. "Let it go," she replied. "... the fuck? Seriously. Here there was a little me doll that is wishing all sorts of crazy shit on me, and the best you can give me is, 'let it go'?" She replied calmly, "It's a symbol. That's it. There are no rules to magic, only the ones you create. You think that little figure is you, it is. You let it go and it isn't. You fear it, and it becomes something more. No one wished good or bad karma on you, except yourself. The doll simply manifested the hopes and fears of your own mind. To be perfectly honest, you don't even NEED a doll, you can perform magic without it." So that was it. No stupid rituals. No demons that ate your entrails if you said a bunch of gibberish in the wrong order. No ghosts in the attic, no black eyed kids trying to get into your car. The only shit that could hurt you was the stuff that you conjured in your head. The reality -the real secret- is that the world we know is just one big mindfuck. I took the doll from out of my pocket and looked at it. No expression, no Joker style grin, just a innocent looking piece of plastic. I gave it to her, with my thanks and a big tip - probably more than I should have. But god-dam, I'd nearly died. If I can dream up all that stupid shit and nearly kill myself, there's no telling what an under-tipped psychic could do to me. It's a little more serious than a waitress spitting in your food, you know? I still wish myself well every morning. I try not to dabble in stuff I don't understand, and I sure as hell don't read any of those creepy stories anymore. "There are no rules," the psychic told me, "only the ones you create." Fuck that noise. Because when you're sitting there, spooking yourself with a good Stephen King or Lovecraftian epic, you inevitably catch movement out of the corner of your eye. Or maybe your cat bumped a table in the other room? See, it isn't that the stuff you imagine isn't real, its just that your disbelief is barely strong enough to keep you safe. Spooky dolls mischievously grinning at you? Check. Ancient secrets revealed in some simple ritual? Check. Something from beyond coming for you, now that the author told you about it? Only what you conjure up.

Credit to: Morebrainsplx