By Jordan Borges
In the darkness the floor looked black. Thom knew it was actually blue—this being his preferred school bathroom—but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was standing on a void.
“Andrew said he saw him here,” he whispered.
Caleb’s flashlight beamed onto the middle stall. Thom stepped next to him.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
The brothers closed their eyes and spun. “Let him in, let him in,” they intoned. Flashlight like a lighthouse. Silence when they stopped.
A pipe’s sudden bang sent them scurrying into the corner, Thom’s arms spreading wide to shield his brother from the terror they’d so recklessly conjured.
This is just another example of stories that are published that make no sense to me. What did they conjure up?
Agree.
Love it, great window into the wild mind and imagination of youth.