There Is An Island Off The Coast Of Washington Where A Religious Cult Operates A ‘Colony’

“I’m going to tell,” the girl whispered playfully at me through pursed lips as if I needed another reason for my teenage heart to quiver.

Before I could get my thoughts in order, the girl took off and disappeared around a doorway.

I followed the scent of what I recognized as perfume around the corner and to a small corridor that housed just men’s and women’s bathroom doors.

“Gonna go hide in the girl’s bathroom, seriously?”

My last word was still rolling off of my tongue when the girl burst out of the men’s bathroom and yanked me back in with her.

“What the hell?” I muttered as she pushed me into the unoccupied of the two stalls and locked us in.

I could feel the embarrassment of the shitting guy in the stall next to us before she even started talking.

“You’re going to Eden?” She asked me with green eyes that sparkled in the tiled light of the room.

I tried to clear my throat of awkwardness before I spoke.

“Uh. Yeah. I guess.”

“It’s a weird, weird fucking place. You’re going to need someone to show you around. I wouldn’t mind. My name’s Gabby.”

She stuck me with a handshake so soft it hurt my heart and slipped out of the stall.

beetlejuice

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Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website. Follow Jack on Twitter or read more articles from Jack on Thought Catalog.

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