Novel: Fantasy Horror

Except the air grew warmer. Cole stopped shivering and Edward felt heat on his bare skin as if the moon were radiating warmth much as the sun had seemed to radiate cold.

“Where the fuck are we?” Edward hissed. Without the walk to distract him, his thoughts were centered on the question. He had died, that much he knew. Or had he? Was he dreaming, still in the process of dying in the bathtub? Had his mom come home early, and found him and rushed him to a hospital, and he would wake up in a hospital bed just like Cole had fallen asleep in one? For all his desire to keep Cole safe, was he just imagining him?

If this was a dream, surely he could change the scenery, or fly, or something if he knew it was a dream. But he stayed in the dark beside a crumbling wall and the air grew thick and hot and stifling. Cole took off the thick shirt and leaned against Edward, though they were both sweltering. His shoulder against Edward’s side felt warm and real.

Edward wanted to sleep, but couldn’t. He stared at the hot moon and ground his teeth, searching for an answer in it, and searching for stars.

There were no stars.

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Novel: Fantasy Horror

“We should go,” he said aloud, and looked around yet again, though nothing had changed in the landscape. “There’s bound to be someone somewhere.”

But there was no path. The ground was dry dust all around, the trees were clustered all around, there was nothing in the distance. He looked up at the sun, but he had no idea whether it was rising or setting.

“What way do you think?” he asked Cole.

Cole didn’t even think about it. He pointed into the trees. “That way.”

“Why not.” He picked up the ridiculous hideous helmet and stepped in that direction.

“Your ax.”

Edward stopped and looked back at it. It looked like it weighed eighty pounds. “Yeah right.”

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Novel: Fantasy Horror

He looked up, and saw that although the sky was gray the sun shone bright as if there was no cloud cover at all. But despite the sun the air was so cold Edward could see the breath of the boy puffing frantically. He couldn’t see his own breath though; there was something covering his face.

He took off the thing on his head and looked at it – a sinister black helmet that completely hid his face, with small pointy horns and something of a beak – and the boy stilled. They looked at each other for a moment, and Edward remembered slicing his wrists in the bathtub, the water turning first pink and then red.

“I thought you were one of them,” the boy said. He was maybe twelve years old.

“Who?” Edward asked.

“The screech owls.”

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Oh, this story. I hadn’t intended to write this book; I had real books all planned out but then this happened. I have to write it, but you don’t have to read it. It’s kind of a dreamy journey thing where not much happens. I’m convinced it’s pretty much unpublishable.

TRIGGER WARNING: I don’t usually bother with trigger warnings, but this first part contains a detailed description of a suicide. You can skip this part if needed and start from the first chapter. If you even want to read this thing.

Novel: Fantasy Horror

He turned up the music on his headphones so he could hear Amanda Palmer over the water rushing from the faucet. He left the tub to fill and watched the steam creep over the mirror. He ran his hands through his dark hair, trying to settle a few strands. Then he looked at his thin arms and scrawny chest.

Faggot. The word fell into Edward’s mind like a weight, but he didn’t look away from his reflection. Look. See what everyone else sees.

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