I Went With My Best Friend To Our Childhood Hangout Spot, And We Really Should Have Just Stayed Home

I slipped out of The Shack as quietly as I could, comforted by the sound of Jeremy drunkenly snoring.

Once outside, covered in the shade of the dark night and the orchestra of the summer crickets, I snatched up the shovel and started digging into the Frog Graveyard. Knowing the contents of my digging would be eerie, I took a look at the first contents my shovel dug up – a few rocks etched with faded marker with the names of some of our long forgotten frog friends like Hopper and Daddy Long Legs and the scattered remnants of the bones of the perished creatures.

I shuddered for a moment, but went right back to digging until I felt my shovel hit something hard. I frantically dug up the object to see it was another rusted coffee can, this one included writing on top that read: FOR KEVIN.
I opened up the can to see a scattering of photos. Even just at first glance, I could tell they were disturbing.
The pictures looked like those leaked photos from those prisoners of war camps over in Iraq or Afghanistan that leaked years ago, except the torturing guard was a 10-year-old Jeremy and the one being tortured was a 10-year-old Daniel. I cringed looking at the dirty photos all these years later, almost couldn’t bare to see such a young, soft Daniel taking all of the embarrassing punishment from such a young Jeremy. I didn’t even look at all of the photos before I stuffed them back in the can and checked my back.

All was quiet and dark by the entrance to The Shack. All I could hear was a rising chorus of bullfrogs croaking into the night. I swallowed some nervous spit and headed back in.



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