I sit beside her grave during my lunch break every damn day. It freaked me out at first, but I got used to it. It even started to feel normal. Like I was where I was meant to be.
“Girl adds me on Snapchat, knows my life story, secrets I’ve never even whispered, and acts like she knows me.”
“I had a guy call me who was audibly masturbating and saying lewd things right off the bat. It was really fucking weird.”
At around 2am, after around 47 minutes on the phone, Brandon yelled “OH SHIT” and the phone hung up. That was the last anyone ever heard from him.
Hearing them speak clear English instead of gibberish was beyond creepy. Their words didn’t even sound natural. They sounded forced, like the voice actors had guns against their heads. But it got creepier.
Run, damn it. Run. I couldn’t. She smiled, still. “It’s not so bad.”
Would you rather eat the dead flesh of your mother or your father?
When I got in my Hyundai and pulled the stick shift into reverse, the backup camera popped on, showing me the area behind my bumper. A little girl was playing in the street, purple chalk balanced in her hand.
My head had bumped into a grate – more so like a cage rather than just a grate. And inside the cage, in a small dirt and concrete cell, sat a woman.
Everyone in Howeville, Virginia knew about the Barnes Family Curse, but no one knew more about it than me.