#Reminds me of when I turned thirteen and grew taller than my mom

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Aw!

[wonniexy]

# SPRING AND PUPS | park jay.

PARK JAY, SPRING SMILES EVENT: MAY 24, 1.4k WORDS, FLUFF, BEST FRIENDS AU, WARNING: NONE.

Spring became your favorite season in fourth grade, when a child not much taller than you were at the time strolled into your classroom, exactly thirteen days after classes began, and introduced himself as "Jay, from Seattle." Not a word more (despite him being something of a talker, you discovered days later), not a word less.

He had a black backpack over his shoulders, as if to distinguish himself from the masses of what were mere nine-year-olds, a small white bunny puppet hung from one side of his zipper, and his school uniform seemed to fit him far too big, so much so that you asked yourself if they had gotten his size wrong.

If spring didn't become your favorite season at that exact moment, you're more than convinced it surely happened always because of Jay.

You can thank his smile, your long conversations about this and that (starting with cherry blossoms on your lunch breaks and ending with why his favorite books should be placed on the top shelf of your bedroom bookshelf), his constant stroking of your head with his right hand, the way he enters your house without even knocking anymore and the way he stops by for dinner every Friday night, then stays over in the guest room (which might as well be his by now) after watching a movie with your entire family and making bets with your dad about what team will win the Sunday soccer game.

You can thank his existence itself and what he's become to you in such a short time that it was almost hard for you to notice.

"Can I touch them?" Jay asks, in a whisper; a faint whisper due to two baby rabbits who seem to be sleeping the first of many quieter sleeps of what will be their lives from this day forward.

"It might be best to wait a while, Jay." You answer, eyes glued to the little bodies of the two pets. They're so cuddly, with their little eyes closed and tummies going up and down rhythmically and steadily. "They're newborns and I think the mother needs to confirm that she has them under control." You continue, pointing your index finger at the larger rabbit, almost anchored to her pups. "Just for a few days, at least."

Jay sighs and, returning to the child he's always been, crosses his arms and rises from his position. "It's not fair; I don't think I can wait. I even dressed for the occasion!"

You can hear all of his disappointment in his words. Jay loves animals, especially rabbits.

You're suddenly reminded of the day when, three years after your friendship began, he first brought you to this place, for the sole reason that you had asked him why he never broke away from the same white stuffed rabbit you had seen him bring with him on his first day of school in your elementary days.

He had shown you all the rabbits there were, taught you their names ("most of them were made up by me" - not true) and then gave you an in-depth lecture (as in-depth as a middle schooler's lecture could be) on how those animals lived, how to care for them, and so many other things.

You still remember the warmth and happiness placed in his eyes as he spoke.

You laugh a little at his words, following his moves and rolling your eyes. "All you did was wear sweatpants and sneakers, Jay."

"When I could just as well have been wearing my favorite shirt and my everyday dress shoes, you should add!" 

"Dress shoes are not everyday shoes." You say, shaking your head and shifting your gaze from your friend to the bunnies that, underneath, you'd also like to cuddle immediately. "I still find it amazing that Lily became a mom, you know?"

"You said the same thing about Phoebe last year." Jay laughs, softly. "But I can relate. We grew up watching Phoebe and Lily be born and, now, we're watching them become moms to some beautiful puppies. Time goes by so fast..."

"Don't start crying, now, though." You look at him, barely holding back a laugh.

Jay Park is your best friend. You like the way he expresses himself, how sunny he is, how dramatic he is, and how willing he is to talk about anything. Jay really is your best friend and, perhaps, you are the only one who knows where to hit him without hurting him, just as he knows where to hit you without hurting you.

The boy turns to you and raises his eyebrows a little. If, in fourth grade, you could look him in the eye with no problem at all, now it's hard not to raise your head a little so you don't have to come face to face with his chin.

"I could and there would be no harm in it." He says, and then gives you one of his classic tongue-in-cheeks.

"Childish." You mockingly hit Jay's head with one hand as a familiar voice comes from behind you and your best friend turns in the direction of Mrs. Hong, Jay's neighbor and owner of all the rabbits in the garden. You've counted them all, you and Jay, and taking into account the two newborns, they total thirty-eight.

"Are you two still bickering?" You hear her laugh. For a little woman over eighty, her laugh is loud, but very pleasant to the ear.

"We're just keeping Lily and the puppies company." You say, before Jay can even open his mouth to fake cry in front of Mrs. Hong about the blow to the head you just gave him.

"They're gorgeous, aren't they?"

"They're a wonder." Jay replies, approaching the cage again and lowering himself onto his knees. "They look so...peaceful. Serene. I don't believe in miracles, but after all the suffering our Lily went through..."

You see him stick out his index finger and gently stroke Mama Rabbit's fur from outside the cage. Lily is half awake, as if trying to keep an eye on the pups, but she seems to let go of the contact of Jay's skin with her snow-white fur.

"She's been strong." Mrs. Hong says, nodding and taking you under her arm. "She did really well."

"We knew she could do it." You squeeze the woman's arm a little tighter, making eye contact with Jay and smiling broadly.

Jay nods at your words, then turns one last time to the bunnies and stands up.

"Have you thought of names to give the rabbits yet, Mrs. Hong?" He asks, approaching you and shaking some dirt off his pants.

"I was hoping you could do it this time. I know you've done it before, in the past, but I want these two new entries to be yours. Yours and special."

"Ours meaning that we'll be the ones caring for them? Ours meaning that we will be their current owners? Ours meaning that-"

"Jay!"

Mrs. Hong laughs at the happiness that Jay exudes, from the words that flow relentlessly from his mouth and from his entire body. He almost seems to want to jump to exaltation. "Yes, little Park. Yours."

You both jump to hug the woman, thanking her and thanking her and thanking her again, and then hugging each other and screaming like crazy. You're both happier than you've ever been, you might even say.

When you break away, you go to crouch down in front of the cage where the two baby rabbits are still sleeping blissfully and where Lily, the new mom, seems to be holding them close to her.

"Hey babies, hi!" You begin, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head here and there. "We are your new owners! I'm y/n and this right here is Jay!"

Jay laughs at the way you interact with the two pups and lightly taps you with his elbow. "If I were them, I wouldn't want you as my owner." He laughs.

You turn to face him, smiling falsely at him, only to hit him much harder with your own elbow, nearly knocking him over.

"I choose my future baby first." You say, blowing.

"Go ahead," Jay laughs at your action, "but at least make sure to pick a cute name too - you kind of suck at that stuff."

This time, Jay actually finds himself with his body slammed into the ground.

You burst out laughing, and he does as well, struggling to get up. He definitely wants to cry.

"Not so sure about the everyday dress shoes now, huh?"

[ben-hardy-jones]

Missing you

Author: @ben-hardy-jones​

Pairing: Billy x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, character death, fluff

Song: You Are The Reason by Calum Scott  

Word count: 2.800ish

Summary: Billy and you grew up together, spent every day together and loved each other to death until the day he never came back. 

♡ Feedback is always appreciated! ♡

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They say your first love will always be live and will live forever in your heart. Growing up with Billy, you would never imagine that to be so true.

Since the moment you were born, you two were destined to be by each other's side. You had only your dad, who took advantage of every moment to remind you how your mother's death was all your fault since you shared your date of birth with her death date.

The only positive thing in your life at that time was Billy and his mom. You two shared a lot in common. Both with a single parent who happened to be close friends, making you and Billy inseparable. Every day was spent at his house, fooling around.

Not even the fact that he was three years older than you stopped you two from becoming impossible to separate so much that people started assuming you were siblings.

 As the years moved, you slowly but surely drifted away from your father as his interests shifted to hazard and alcohol more than his own daughter. You were taken care of by Billy's mom after all, why would he care, right?

Growing up independently, having to take care of yourself a lot made you grow up sooner. Even sooner than Billy, which caused some tension between you two as he was often scolded for being way too childish while you, the younger one, was praised.

Things changed between you and Billy when you hit the age of thirteen and started to look at him in a different light. He was no longer the hyperactive blonde kid with bright green eyes and a cheeky smile in your eyes.

However, while you were busy daydreaming about your slowly raising love for a person you spent every day of your life with, he was occupied with his new friends. You'd never met them and didn't know who they were. Yet, you didn't like the idea of Billy being away from you for so long.

He would leave for school in the morning, shortly after you two texted, and come home late at night. Countless calls with his mom and she still wasn't able to tell you where he was hanging out. It made you anxious. She would always say that he's sixteen, he's a young teenage boy who likes to be free and she will not restrict him from that.

Eventually, you managed to find out what he was doing one day while watching the news. Police were looking for a group of three masked thieves who broke into few houses and stole expensive jewellery and tech gadgets. On the video playing on the TV, it was hard to tell who these people were. They moved like ghosts, jumping from one roof onto another like it was nothing. The newsperson even called them 'skywalkers', making you laugh lightly. But no matter how far from you he was, Billy was always recognizable for you.

You called him to your house that night. Unexpectedly, he came. Dressed in full black, he looked so different from the soccer-loving teenage boy you were used to. Even when you saw him every day, it felt like you hadn't talked in years. As he took off his black pullover hoodie, your eyes drifted to the exposed skin of his ripped tummy with prominent v-line before he fixed his shirt and covered himself. Turning around, you tried calming your hormones down by taking a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't notice the blush creeping on your cheeks. With a black backpack on his shoulder, he sat down on your unmade bed.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked, a small flirtatious smile on his face.

"What is wrong?" you cursed, staring deadly into his wide eyes as you stood in front of him with arms folded across your chest, "What are you doing, Billy?"

His brows furrowed as he leaned closer to you. His elbows were supported by his athletic thighs.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I know you. I know the real you but this," you pointed at his outfit, "this is wrong. I'm not stupid, I saw you on TV-"

"Y/N-" he tried to interrupt you but unsuccessfully.

"Don't Y/N me. You're a thief. You steal expensive things from people and why? To go to prison for the rest of your life. Why?"

"I'm helping mom and you, okay? Where do you think all the money, she gives you comes from? She's a hairdresser, barely getting by," he grabbed your hand, pulling you to him, "we have nothing left after she pays the mortgage, buys groceries and pays all the bills and she has to take care of not just her own child but you as well."

"I never asked for any of that," you mumbled, sitting on the bed next to Billy.

"I'm a good thief, alright?" he joked, a chuckle leaving your lips, "They won't catch us. We're fast and we're quick. Police can't keep up with us. That's why they asked the public for help."

You laid your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cheek.

"I will take care of both the woman I care about, alright? I'm not leaving you behind and I'm not going anywhere either."

Looking up, his eyes were already on you as his nose brushed yours slightly. A cold chill ran down your spine as his hand cupped your face so gently like he thought you were made of porcelain.

"What if you get caught?"

His laugh was quiet and subtle, but it still made your heart jump.

"I won't, don't worry about that."

Time seemed to stop as you stared into each other's eyes. There was no need to do anything. You laid your chin comfortably on his shoulder as his hand snuck around your waist, his hand gently squeezing your hip.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

You nodded with a sheepish smile, not able to say a word. Billy's lips felt soft and moved against yours almost naturally. There were a few moments when your teeth clashed and your noses bumped into each other but no first kiss was ever perfect. With Billy, however, it didn't matter what people imagined when someone said the word 'perfect'. For you, anything related to Billy was perfect no matter what.

 Months went by and you found yourself in a bathtub with your naked back against Billy's chest. His hands caressing your flesh anywhere he could reach, the warmth of the hot water relaxing your sore muscles.

"Do you work for someone or is it just you and the others stealing random stuff?" you mused, head resting on his shoulder. Billy kept drawing circles on your upper thighs.

"Why would you ask that?"

His lips gently touched your naked skin, planting wet kisses everywhere, sometimes biting subtly to create a red mark that would disappear in a few seconds.

"Just wondering," you shrugged in an attempt to appear uninterested.

"I've never met him but there is a guy who always tells us what to steal and then pays us."

"Isn't it better to just do it all yourself so you get more money instead of risking your life for someone you've never met before?"

You could feel Billy smiling against the flesh of where your neck meets your shoulder.  

"Didn't you lecture me a few months ago about how bad stealing is, love?"

"Like I said, I'm just wondering," you turned your head to the side, facing your lover as his arms moved around your waist, pressing you into him.

"How about I'll answer all your questions after our bath, alright" he whispered, lips brushing yours teasingly as his hand slid down your tummy. Goosebumps appeared on your skin. Pushing forward, you closed the gap between your lips and surrendered to Billy's idea.

 Time flew by. Billy stood by your side during the hard times as well as during the sweet ones. He was one of only a very small number of people who attended your father's funeral, his hand never leaving yours as you cried silently by his side.

Life became harder out of nowhere. Billy's skills grew more and more professional and he became an excellent and untouchable thief. You thought he would stop stealing when he earned enough money but trying to persuade him into getting a normal, legal job was pointless.

He started going abroad. It made you scared for his life even more. Billy was out there, in the unknown, getting tangled up in illegal life and you felt like you were losing him.

Lying on your side, you were trying to close your eyes when you heard movement from the kitchen. Slowly getting up, you tiptoed to see if there was an intruder. Billy wasn't supposed to come home until next week.

But there he was, standing by the sink, drinking a glass of water as his favourite blue jacket with white stripes laid on the kitchen counter.

"Billy," you exhaled, running into his arms, throwing yours around his neck to bring him close. The faint smell of his cologne mixed with a hint of sweat hit your nostrils and you relaxed, even more, when you realized your Billy was finally back.

He hissed the moment you buried your head into his neck.

"What's wrong?"

Pulling away, you cupped his face gently, running your thumbs across the dry skin of his face, subtly cursing him for not taking care of his own body.

"I'm alright, love," he tried assuring you, but your eyes already landed on two bloody gushes on his right eyebrow, only protected by already dirty butterfly stitches.

"Are you joking right now?" you scolded him. Grabbing his hand tightly, you led him to sit on one of the bar stools as you swiftly ran to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit.

Billy was patiently waiting for you with the knowledge of not fighting you. Didn't matter that he was around 16 centimetres taller with mountains of muscle. You were the one in charge in your relationship.

He watched with an adoring smile on his beaten face as you walked towards him while rummaging through the kit, cursing under your breath about how stupid his job is.  

"Aren't I lucky to have a nurse by my side?" he enthused while you prepared everything that was needed.

"I'm not a nurse yet," you replied, emphasizing the word 'yet', "I'm graduating next year so you better be in the country."

"I'll make sure of that."

Raising your eyebrow, you stopped wiping the blood off his skin.

"I promise," he chuckled, squeezing your wrist reassuringly.  

"This would heal better with proper stitches and not butterfly stitches," you mumbled underneath your breath as Billy watched you work with adoration in his eyes, "but of course you're too tough to go to the hospital, big guy."

He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have a woman like you by his side and every time he left, he counted the hours 'til he would be back and be able to hold you in his arms.

 Almost a year later, you turned around in the doorway, Billy's old shirt loosely hanging on your naked body as you watched the man you loved with your whole heart lying on his back, the blanket barely covering his lower area as he stretched in the bed, his prominent muscles bulging.

"Come here," he mumbled sleepily with a raspy morning voice as he motioned for you to come back to bed.

Without a second thought, you obeyed and tiptoed towards him. Stopping at his side, he extended his arm towards you. Your hand fit perfectly into his as you interlocked your fingers.

"I need to shower, Billy," you smiled. However, it was useless. His cheeky smile appeared on his handsome face as he tucked forward, making you fall on top of him.

"Billy, seriously, I have to be in uni in an hour."

His lips went straight to your neck, sloppy kisses covering a few faint bruises he left on you a few days ago. Pride surged through him. He felt you shiver as his hand slid underneath your shirt, laying on your lower back and slowly moving downwards, making you moan.

Within seconds, you were underneath him as he kissed your lips passionately while you wrapped your legs around his naked hips.

"I only need five," he mumbled between the kisses as you surrendered to him completely, letting him do whatever he desired with your body.

 Making coffee, Billy's hands snuck around you from behind as he pressed a quick kiss on your temple.

"How was uni?"

"Exhausting as always," you replied, filling both your cups with brown liquid before putting the kettle down, "aren't you supposed to be 'working'?"

"There's no need for the air quotes, love."

"Well, I've never heard about stealing being a job."

Billy smiled and helped you with breakfast. Quickly finishing the scrambled eggs before putting them on plates.

"I'm leaving for Kiev tomorrow," he announced while eating his breakfast as you were just sitting down.

You looked at the calendar on your fridge, frowning.

"But I have my graduation ceremony on Friday, Billy?" you pouted, putting your fork down.

"That's far enough."

"It's Sunday. Can you fly to Kiev and make it back within five days?"

"Of course. It's a simple job-"

"Don't lie to me," you interrupted him as you looked him in the eyes. Billy and you spent so much time together that it was impossible for either of you to lie to each other.

"Look," he put down the fork and came to you, kneeling next to your chair, "we'll arrive on Monday noon. Preparation will take a day or two before the mission and I will be back by Thursday evening tops. Don't worry about me, love, I'll be alright."

"Why Kiev?" you couldn't help but ask as he held your hands tenderly.

"There's this necklace called Kalahari. We're supposed to get it for someone. It's big money, love. We'll be rich."

"I don't wanna be rich. I want you to be here with me," you whispered, looking at your fingers.

"I have to take care of you and mom. Plus, I'm good at what I do, alright? Stop worrying and let's enjoy today before my flight," he kissed your forehead and sat down again, finishing breakfast in silence.  

 It's been three months now and you don't think you'll ever recover. The cold autumn breeze messes up your hair swiftly put into a bun as you stand in the empty cemetery in front of his grave, remembering how it all went down.

You remember waiting for him. Waking up on that Friday morning, getting ready for your ceremony while looking at your front door to see Billy walking in any second. That never happened.

Feeling worried and heartbroken as your eyes searched the crowd of proud parents, siblings and friends for his heartwarming green eyes and that blonde mess on top of his head he called hair. You expected to see him standing next to his mom who was recording you as your name was said, a huge smile on her face.

Deep inside, you were hoping he was just late. Maybe the mission got delayed and he'd be back that night. But he wasn't. He didn't come back next week either.

And then you got the news. His mom called you one early morning. Her cries were loud, she was hyperventilating as she told you. Billy was gone and he wasn't coming back.

The funeral was pitiful. You recognized two people who turned up as those who worked with him. They didn't stay until the end. Probably just making sure he was truly dead. It was just you, his mom and a boy who told you he was his friend, but you never met him.

Holding a tissue in front of your face, you tried to hide the running mascara as you stood by Billy's mom's side, holding her hand tightly. Two hours after the empty coffin was lowered into the grave, you were the only one left.

 A chill runs down your spine as you start to feel the cold air around you.

"Remember when you said you'd grow old with me?" you choke out. Your heart feels empty as you look at Billy's name written across the grave, "You're a bastard for leaving me here alone, Billy, but I'll never stop loving you."

One last time, you read the engravings you chose: "I lived a good life. Now I'll have a good rest."

"Happy anniversary, baby."

Lying the blue rose in front of his grave, you turn around to walk away. Your car, brought by Billy for your twentieth birthday, is the only one at the cemetery. Sitting at the driver's seat, you finally let the tears go, wetting your cheeks as you cry your heart out while tightly holding the heart necklace with a photo of Billy and you together, the last remaining piece of him you'll hold tightly for the rest of your life.

[creativeashproductions]

Blue Ribbon // Dylan O’Brien

Summary: Fate has the ability to build something beautiful and tear it back down. It brings joy, love and happiness that fate can easily poison into heartache, pain and sadness. To trust fate is a hard thing to do especially when fate’s been cruel to Y/N. Will fate be cruel to separate Dylan and Y/N?

Characters: Dylan O’Brien x Reader, Mr and Mrs. Y/L/N

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Swearing, angst, talk of parental illness, and some fluff

Disclaimer: I do not know much about the army so I did some research that could potential be wrong. This is also a work of fiction so this is based on what we’ve seen of Dylan’s personality and means no harm to Britt whatsoever, she’s happy with someone else in this fic.

A/N: So after writing Little League I got bit by the Dylan O’Brien writing bug and I guess I have to ride this out. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

I want to start a book recommendation every week or once a month. Not fics on tumblr but paperback/hardcover books. Would you be interested?

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You had been with the same boy since you were barely able to comprehend what love really was and the beauty that came with it. He always asked to take you to the middle school dances where you would shyly sit beside each other until halfway through the dance when he grow enough balls to ask you dance. You were a year older but the cutoff date had you in the grade below but you grew to accept you would be taller than boys but not him. You two had an innocent middle school relationship.

At age twelve he begged his mom to buy a rose to give to your on your thirteen birthday with a permanent blush that lasted all day. With slow steps he had it to where you were sitting on the swing set chewing on your lip watching the birds fly in the sky.

“H-Hi Y/N.” He nervously spoke. His hands hiding the rose behind his back.

“Hi!” You beamed up at the boy taking the time to stop idly swinging.

“Happy birthday.” He gently dragged the toe of his converse in the dirt.


“Thank you Dylan!”

“Here.” He humbled gently bringing the rose from behind his back, “The rose reminded me of you. You’re as pretty as the vibrant red.”

It was your turn to blush looking at the ground brushing the dutch braid back over your shoulder while Dylan stepped closer. He gently handed you the rose leaving his hands to fidget.

“I-I really like you.” He mumbled looking down at you, “Would you like to my girlfriend?”

The way he asked was innocent and pure with intentions with no ill minded reasons other than he really like you just as much as you liked him. You released a giggle while tugging him by the hand to pull him to your sitting height and hugged him. The butterflies flooded both your stomachs before he sat in the next swing and together you gently swayed still holding hands.

“I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

“Does that mean I can hug you whenever I want?” Dylan gleefully asked turning to face you.

“Of course.”

Everyone always liked to tease you for being in a relationship with the nerdy Dylan O’Brien who was also younger than you. He got teased for having a girl like you, and older, be his girlfriend but most of the time it was innocent teasing. You both planned to attend the same college together and get married when you graduated but things took a massive change.

Your mother got sick suddenly and violently leaving her bedridden in hospital getting a vast number of treatments and tests. The medical bills crippled your family until you were close to selling the only home you knew and you couldn’t let it happen.

“Dad?” You asked wandering into the spacious kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table surrounded by medical bills, blank papers, papers with various numbers, pencils and a calculator.

“Sweetheart.” Dad weakly smiled hiding the papers from you, “How did you sleep?”



“I know how bad it is.” You softly spoke watching as the strong man you knew broke before your eyes.

“I’m so sorry baby.” Dad sobbed taking his glasses off to tightly hold his forehead.

“I know you’ve been looking for a good realtor to sell the house but I have an idea.”

He glanced up with red rimmed eyes in curiosity as you sat yourself in the chair across from him. Dad’s heart broke seeing as mature you were since your mother had fallen ill months ago and while she was close to being discharged it was horrible the way you grew up too fast.

“What is it?”

“My college fund.” You spoke before his gaze turned into a glare and words fell from his lips, “No. I don’t want to go to college. It’s not my plan.”

You were lying to him because you desperately wanted to go to college with your boyfriend and get a good job. You wanted to be financially secure when you married him and have children. You wanted the marriage your parents had but you wanted to see your parents not worry about the bills pilling up.

“I can-“

“There’s more than enough. You know with the trust fund Grandpa left and the money we saved up we can finally be free of bills. I can get a job if it’s not enough and I can save up if I ever want to go to college.” You quickly explained and kept explained until he weakly nodded his approval.

With a solution to the problem you get upstairs to your bedroom and to the open tabs on your computer displaying information on the army. You were determined to get an education even if you had to join the army to get there. You set things in motion getting yourself into online classes.

You’re mother came home the following month with a smile on her face and her eyes sparkling as much as they used to. Even Dylan was excited as he got up from the couch.

“Mrs. Y/L/N! It’s so good to see you!” He explained gently pulling her into a hug. He stepped back while you hugged her close.


“It’s nice to see you.” Mom smiled wheeling herself to the couch. With a little pain she shifted herself on to the couch.

“How’ve you been?”



“Been good.” Dylan nodded glancing over, “We’ll rain check dinner?”



“Thanks.” You smiled as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before getting his jacket.

“You don’t have to leave.” Mom spoke as he slid his arms into the coat. 
“You should have time as a family.”



“You are family Dylan O’Brien.” Mom firmly spoke, “You have been since we first met you as Y/N’s boyfriend.”

With a a half smile and a kiss on her cheek Dylan walked to the foyer with you on his heels with a large smile. With the door open Dylan turned to passionately kiss you as he always did with the same intensity. It was your way of saying goodbye without having to see the words.

“I’ll see you later?” He mumbled.


“I’ll you tonight.” You sighed as he kissed your forehead again and walked his way home in the cool afternoon weather.

“I’m happy you found him.” Mom spoke from the couch with knitting needles in her hands. Her physical therapist suggested it to help with her fine motor skills and peace of mind.

“I am too.” You happily sighed before sitting next to her.

“I know why your father isn’t as stressed as before.” She hummed focusing on the purple blanket she was making her way through, “I know you sacrificed your future.”

You shifted uncomfortably under the disapproval and disappointed without even having to look at her. Both your father and you had made the decision to keep it a secret from her but your mother was a smart woman.

“I didn’t want you guys to lose the house.”

“Losing a house is less important than you not going to college. How are we going to be able to send you to college?”

“I have an idea. I’m sixteen and if I graduate early along with your permission I can enlist in the army.” You carefully spoke watching her tense up thinking of what could happen to you.

“No.”

“Please.”

“No. Not happening. I didn’t fight to stay while only to watch my daughter die.” She exclaimed slowly shifting herself back into the wheelchair and rolling herself into the kitchen.

“But-“

“No!”

“You know what! I can wait till I’m eighteen and I’ll enlist. You can’t stop me!” You yelled stomping up to your room where you nearly threw a picture against the wall.

You laid on your bed staring up at the ceiling of your room where residue of the glow in the dark stars used to be. You picked them off when your mom got sick, why waste time wishing on stars when nothing happened. You lost a bit of yourself when she was first sick and you haven’t gotten it back yet.

The knock interrupted your moping when your Dad walked in without waiting for an answer. He stood there unsure of what to do and how to approach it. You were closer with your mom so sometimes it was difficult to open a conversation with you.

“You want to join the army?”

“Yeah.” You half smiled.

“Absolutely sure? You don’t have to sweetheart.” Dad spoke sitting by your head. His eyes watched yours close in thought.

“I want to. It’s like I’ve subconsciously wanted to but never recognized it.” You mumbled.

“I’ll sign the papers.” He sighed, “I’ll talk to your mother about it but if you don’t want to just let me know.”

“Thanks you Dad.”

The last of the paperwork was going through when you finally were ready to tell Dylan you had enlisted. You had graduated early to his shock and pride but you held off telling him why you had done that. He was invited to supper tonight when your bedroom door slammed open with force.

“You’re joining the army?!”

Well your plan just went in a metaphorical fire that didn’t burn your skin as much as his gaze was at that moment. His face was red with watering eyes and quivering lips as he took in the perfect bun you had managed to do.

“Hey babe.” You slowly spoke, “How’d you find out?”



“Your Dad mentioned it to my Mom thinking I knew about it. You just turned seventeen! You can’t join the army!” Dylan yelled.

“I can with parental permission.” You softly told your boyfriend. You took a step towards him but he took one back with a shake of his head.

“This is why you took me to a Mets game for my sixteen birthday?” He brokenly asked scrunching his eyebrows remembering the game and the night that followed. He felt dirty wondering if you only slept with him because you were leaving him.

“I did that because I planned that since you were thirteen Dyl.” You breathlessly spoke as he shook his head. The tears flooded his cheeks.


“How could they sign you up to die?”

You flinched at the last word before sobbing when he stepped further to the doorway.

“How long.” Dylan coldly asked staring at you.

“What?”

“How long are you here for?”

“I ship out for basic training in a few weeks.” You mumbled watching him shake his head stumbling further out of your room.

“I can’t-I can’t.” He brokenly spoke before he took off down the hallway and out of your house. You watched him jump into his family’s car and take off down the street.

You felt the colour drain until it was bland. Dylan was the colour in your life and he just left you there crying. You knew it would tear him apart but you didn’t think he’d run and leave your relationship in limbo.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Dad whispered coming unnoticed into your room. His arms wrapped tight around you as he whispered soothing things in your ear but you didn’t hear them.

All you could hear of the shattering of Dylan’s heart and yours in response.

With Dylan not contacting you time was irrelevant in your life, you didn’t care what day it was. You just wanted him back. You wanted things to go back to when your mom didn’t sick and you didn’t enlist in the army. You didn’t know if you still had a relationship.

“Baby.” Mom sobbed leaning heavily on her crutches just outside of the airport.

Your duffle of only necessities sat at your feet. Face bare to the natural sunlight you couldn’t help but look around for those gorgeous eyes you loved so much.

“Does he know?” You whispered.


“I told Mrs. O’Brien.” Dad sympathetically spoke albeit wanting to murder the teenager who broke his daughter’s heart.

“Oh.” You spoke feeling that tiny piece of your heart shatter until you could only feel the sharp edge of the pain in your chest. The pain almost drowned out the announcement of your plane before your parents hugged you once more.

You were just settled into your seat when a breathless boy, a young male, raced into the airport scanning the faces of you. His eyes were crazed with dark circles and permanently red rimmed but the pale parlour of his skin was most concerning.

“Dylan?” Your mother’s voice questioned from the side.

“Where is she?” Dylan demanded scared shitless of the response.

“She’s gone Dylan. She’s already on the plane and it just took off.” Dad spoke with a harsh glare, “What are you doing here?”



“I made a mistake.” Dylan mumbled mostly to himself, “I shouldn’t have left but I was upset she didn’t tell me.”

The thing was Dylan was too late. He didn’t know if you would ever talk to him again or if he would ever see your face outside his dreams or a frame.

Days turned into months until over a year passed since you first left for basic training with few trips home. Fate could be a cruel monster and you were the living example, when you were home Dylan was away for a multitude of reasons. Contact was hard with two stubborn fools. You didn’t know that he had attended your graduation from basic training. The day after you were sent for Advanced Individual Training for a few weeks.

You had gotten back from your six month deployment to the steps of your childhood home just staring at the door. You had time off from your unit for a few weeks and decided to spend it with your parents and not in the barracks. You were dressed in your combat uniform still.

“Y/N?” The words fell from your…ex…? boyfriends lips just behind you. You could tell his voice had deepened since you last saw him.

“Dylan.” You spoke swiftly moving on your feet to see him standing there in shock.

“God I missed you.” He mumbled dropping the flowers in his hand to grasp your face to pull you into a long kiss. One you quickly reciprocated, “I’m sorry I was such as ass. I’m so proud of you.”

You were speechless seeing the tears build up in his eyes both scanning the others features. You were a little tanner than before and you’re eyes had changed with the views of pain and destruction in the world.

“You’re proud.”


“I saw you when you graduated basic training. Your parents took me with them and I’m so proud of what you accomplished. I wanted to contact you but everything been so crazy. Your Dad kept me updated on you.”

You stepped further into his arms relishing in the simple touch of him that you had missed far more than you had realized.

“I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“It’s in the past. I’m just happy your here and safe. How long are you here.”

“A few weeks. We just got back from deployment.” You spoke returning to the heat and the weight of the gun in your hands. You shook the vision away to see Dylan smiling.


“Can we start over?”

“I’d love that.” You giggled feeling the eyes of your parents peering out the window curtains. You were breathless seeing how handsome he had become since you left. He was seventeen, almost eighteen, now while you were nineteen.

While you hadn’t been in contact you were still so in love with each that everything fell back into place with time and effort. You watched him graduate high school, turn eighteen and make a huge decision that would impact your lives.

“I don’t want to go to college.” Dylan slowly told you as you sat on his living room couch.

“You don’t? But you’ve dreamed of majoring in Sports Broadcasting?” You frowned confused. He began telling you of the opportunities he had being in web series and the love he discovered for acting.

“Let’s do it.” You smiled pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I do want to do something first.” Dylan shakily spoke wiping his clammy hands on his jeans, “Come with me?”



You took his head without hesitation following the familiar path to the backyard and the old swing set. It was one of your favourite places on earth. He gently sat you down before heading back inside only to return with his hands behind his back. Your mind raced with visions of deployment and the child that had held a grenade before you shook it off.

“I always knew you were special. Ever since I first met you I knew you were it for me. No one would be able to change my feelings for you. When I asked you out on your birthday six years away I didn’t just give you a rose, I gave you my heart.” Dylan confidently spoke, “Now six years later my feelings and love have only deepened. Today I give you this rose and this.”

Your hands took the rose to see a emerald blue ribbon looping around the stem near the flower petals with something shiny hanging from it.

“I promise for the rest of my life to always give you my love, my attention and flowers even when it’s not a special occasion. I promise to change this ring to a band that will be a twin to one of my finger. When I asked for you to be my girlfriend you were wearing a gorgeous emerald blue ribbon in your t that brought your eyes out. I want to give a piece of remember that by proposing with a blue ribbon. So Y/N Y/L/N will you marrying me?”

You breathed slowly in complete shock. Just a year ago you weren’t on speaking terms with his kind wonderful man. Yet it felt so right that you didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes.”

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[averyonelovesjack]

new year’s eve ~ jack avery

requested: no

summary: y/n meets a new guy at her best friend’s new years eve party

warning(s): does it curse? idk; unedited

word count: 1545

author’s note: sorry i know i have requests but i wrote this a lil while ago and typed it up for you so that you could get some new year’s magic:)) love you all babes, happy new year! i hope that 2018 treats you well. Thank you for making 2017 so so special for me!!!!

A smile appeared on my face as the door opened and the voices from inside grew louder. With one look, I was right back in Jonah’s arms, my tiny body being enveloped by his large one. My nose filled with the familiar scent that I’d grown accustomed to when we were thirteen years old and he hit that stage. 

Jonahs smile was wide as he allowed me in, accidentally showing me the crowded house. Not that it wasn’t expected; Jonah’s band was unsurprisingly popular and New Year’s Eve was no joke in LA, “I’m so excited that you’re finally here” 

I playfully punch his arm, “i mean it’s only been over a year and four eps since your band formed and i have yet to meet any of them” 

He chuckled, “it’s not like i did it on purpose! Whenever we saw each other it was in Minnesota. And I’m not the only one who moved away and got new friends” 

“ok, but who’s more interesting to meet: extremely talented band-mates or obnoxious college roommates?” 

He laughed again, “you make a point. Are your bags in the car?” 

I nodded my head, “it’s pretty far into the party and i figured that I’d get anxiety carrying my bags through a crowded and unfamiliar house. I’ll get them once everyone leaves” 

“you always were one to think ahead,” Jonah remembered as we walked further into the house. I looked around at the gatherings of the people . Certainly different from the old and broken family members i’m used to seeing on New Year’s Eve, “how’s everything been? how were your finals?” 

I looked up at my best friend, who stood much taller than me, “meh. i got a 95 on my HESI. Could’ve done better, but I’m ok with it” 

He nudged me, “go i hate that you’re still such an overachiever” 

I sat with a red plastic cup full of soda in my hand. it was loud around me, but I sat quietly, as my past year spent in Toronto rather than LA left me without a clue as to who these people were.

Jonah had to go talk to someone who was here. Something about their music, I assume, and as much as i knew he’d feel bad leaving me to myself, I didn’t mind. Especially since I knew this was a benefit to him

As I brought my cup down from my lip, I saw a curly haired boy sitting down next to me. I flashed him a quick smile when he spoke up.

“hi, i’m jack,” he introduced politely, I stuck out my hand, shaking his soft one.

“y/n” I return, “happy new year’s eve” 

This made Jack laugh, which made me smile, “I’ve never seen you before. Sorry for the awkward introduction. I just thought that you were really pretty” 

“that’s so sweet,” i blush, “thank you. how do you know the band?” 

He laughed again, “i’m in it” 

My face ought to have been bright red, “my apologies. truthfully, i only know jonah” 

He smiled an adorable smile, “don’t worry about it. how do you know jonah?” 

“we grew up next door to each other. he was, like, my best friend,” I inform Jack and a realization hit hi. 

“oh! You’re the y/n that’s staying with us for a few days,” Jack reminded the, knowing my best friend, probably brief warning he’d been given, “alright, tell me about yourself” 

I giggle at the all too familiar phrase, “what do you wanna know?”

He blew out warm air, “anything. You’re nineteen″ 

“eighteen,” i correct, “Jonah’s a year older than me” 

“me too,” he childishly replied, “ok so high school? college? a job?” 

“college,” i nod my head, “University of Toronto, nursing major” 

Jack let another smile appear on his face, “so canada? why canada?” 

I shrugged, “i’ve always been in love with the area. And the hockey. I’m obsessed with the maple leafs and the campus is beautiful. the school is really good, and it’s a great program” 

“i don’t know if I could ever live in weather that cold,” He told me, which made me laugh, “I’m from Pennsylvania and that was enough for me” 

“you get used to it, i guess,” i let him know, “and I grew up with the snow, so it’s always just been something I’ve loved. But, trust me, this warm alifornia weather was a much needed vacation from the cold” 

“how long are you here for?” He asks.

“a few days,” I tell him, “i’ve gotten my professor to allow me a few days off of my classes, which are supposed to start the second” 

“they really don’t give you a lot of time to get back,” he winces, “can you imagine a flight home on New Year’s Day? that’s rough” 

I nodded my head, “definitely, but even then, if i’d gotten to see that dope,” we looked over at a flirty Jonah talking to a girl, “a rough flight is worth the trouble. even if i’d only see him a day” 

“that’s really cool that you guys are able to remain cloes even though you’re so fa” 

“yeah, it’s something I love about our friendship” I explained, emphasizing friendship. I wasn’t sure if that was accidental or not.

Jack seemed to like my usage of that word, “you really are something special”

We were getting closer to midnight, the countdown reading just fifteen minutes. I wasn’t nervous or scared, but excited. As shitty as 2017 was, it held some amazing things too. I’d seen Jonah more than once, and I was starting off the year right.

I couldn’t have been anything but happy with the last few hours I’d spent. Jack was sitting beside me since we’d began speaking and he was extremely kind. Everything about him was flirty and adorable and sweet. He had this contagious laugh that just lit up the room. 

Jack sat down beside me, a glass of champagne in each of his hands. I take one glass from him, sending him a shaking of my head. Underage drinking was never my thing. I could go to parties or a friend’s house or a club, but drinking beer or vodka didn’t seem to interest me. however, it was New Year’s Eve. Starting when I was fifteen, my mom had given me a bit of champagne. It wasn’t new to me, and I knew that she would understand, so i didn’t mind giving Jack the go-ahead when he questioned if i wanted some.

“i don’t condone underage drinking,” He tells me and i laugh.

I nudge him playfully, “shut up. you’re in a freaking band” 

“so what? i’m a child of god,” jack informs me and i laugh harder.

“a child of god? okay sweetie,” I tell him, “it’s fine, i know Jonah drinks”

“barely,” He scoffs.

“and there it is,” I told him, “all my friends drink illegally, i really don’t care if you do. although, legally i can drink in toronto next year” 

“so you don’t?” He asks, “should i not have given you champagne?” 

I laugh, “i’ve had it before, calm down” 

Roars of voices came from the main area of the living room and a crowd gathered, recognizing that we were now down to just a minute until 2018. Jack stood up, offering me his hand and helping me to stand up as we entered the busy area.

It was sorta hard to see the tv, hanging at my short height. Jack took notice and laughed. It wasn’t all that important to see the ball drop, to me at least. I would hear the countdown and the loud noises and i would know when it was 2018. It was more important that i was now here with an incredible guy.

Jonah came to my side quickly, out of breath like he’d been searching around for a while. I gave him a smile and the countdown began, my voice being lost in the loud crowd of people.

Within what felt like the shortest amount of time, we’d all shouted one and 2018 hit us. Cheers and horns came from around the room and i looked up at Jack, a smirk reaching his face.

And in that moment, I lived like it truly was a once in a lifetime moment. I stood on my toes, wrapping my arms around Jack’s neck and closing my eyes, leaning towards his lips. The last thing I’d seen was his smirk turning and our lips collided. His hands found their way towards my waist and we remained in sync for several moments before we separated.

“happy new year,” i sent him a flash of a smile as he laughed a little bit, nodding and leaning down for another kiss. our lips crashed again and i heard Jonah interrupting next to me.

jonah stood next to me, his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face, “happy new year, y/n” 

“yeah, yeah. happy new year, jonah” i giggled, giving my best friend a hug and then turning back to my new interest.

“how long did you say you were here for again?” Jack smirked and i playfully rolled my eyes. This was going to be a good next few days.

[sarahwritessirens]

Does Corn Stalk?

I’ve decided to post a short story that I wrote a while ago when I was for certain, absolutely, no take-backs going to run a podcast of Midwestern gothic stories. I have another one I’m working on. They all take place in this little nowhere Midwestern town (like where I grew up!) and the residents have odd stories to tell about their home. I need to continue working on these, but for now, I think I’ll post some short stories/snippets of full-length stories that I’m working on.

***

“Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?”

Nate had heard his grandfather’s joke every day for his entire thirteen years on earth. He wasn’t sure if the old man thought he had never told it, or knew good and well Nate knew the answer and just didn’t care. But, then again, Nate loved the reaction he got, so he appeased him every time.

“I dunno, Grandpa. Why don’t you?”

“Because corn stalks!” the old man answered before the round of coughing laughter that all grandpas seemed to revert to. His eyes closed tight, the edges folding into gleeful wrinkles as he slapped his knee, rocking a little in his chair on the porch.

The joke was hilarious when Nate was little. Now, it had run its course. Still, it was hard not to smile when his grandpa was happy. Those days were rare after the accident.

It was a warm day at the tail end of summer. It was a corn season, and the stalks across the road from them reached high into the sky. In the past, Nate would be running through the fields chasing his friends, trying not to knock down any stalks, lest the sharp crack of the fall alert the farmer that the kids were playing in his crop again. They would get lost in the waxy, waving leaves of the plants, occasionally ripping one in half, or peeling one down to just below their knees to mark their route.

After the accident, Nate was told to stay out of the fields. The one time his mother had found out he had disobeyed her, he couldn’t sit comfortably for a week. More than the pain, the fright that came over his mother’s face when he came walking out of the edge of the field had shocked Nate. His mother hadn’t spanked him since he tried to touch a hot burner as a toddler, and even now, a year later, the terror on her face did far more to deter him from ever entering the field again than the pain.

“I’m gonna heat your lunch for you, Grandpa,” Nate said, patting the old man on the shoulder as he walked across the front porch and opened the front door. “Mom made you a feast, hope you’re super hungry.”

“Oh, yeah?” the old man asked, standing up with a creak in his knees. “What’d that woman send me today?”

“We got some meatloaf and mashed potatoes with cornbread.”

“Ah,” his grandpa responded. “So glad she found my son. Your dad can’t boil water without burning it.”

Nate laughed a little as he walked into the kitchen to put the glass pan in the oven. Ten minutes, he thought in his head. Not longer than ten minutes.

“So, any updates from the tryouts?”

Nate finished setting the over and sighed, leaning against the counter as he looked toward his grandpa, who was taking a seat in his chair at the table.

“Nothing yet. I dunno, Grandpa, I don’t get my hopes up too much. I’m the shortest kid in my grade.”

“So?”

“So, that matters a lot in basketball.”

“Listen here, Nathaniel,” the old man said with stern authority. “You may not have the height of other boys, but by god if you aren’t the most agile and fastest boy in the whole county. Your uncle used to play, and he wasn’t over two hairs taller than you are now. But nobody, absolutely nobody could ever catch him when he ran across that court. Seeing him zero in on that hoop was like watching a snake after a field mouse in the corn.”

Nate looked down at the ground for a moment. It was happening. The darkness that took his grandpa away was creeping in, fooling him with pictures of children that his grandpa didn’t have. The old man’s eyes were darkening like a sky overtaken by a sudden storm.

Nate never quite knew how to handle it. No big shocks, his father always warned. Don’t let him think too long. Ten minutes. Not longer than ten minutes.

“Have you thought about what color you want the house painted?” Nate asked, shifting from one foot to another. “The best painting days are almost over. We don’t know how bad the autumn is going to be yet.”

The old man watched Nate with a lost, empty gaze for a moment, and then the darkness lifted. Light poured into his eyes again and he focused on his grandson.

“Your dad said ‘no’ to the lime green request, eh?”

“I tried to fight that one for you,” Nate said.

“Course you did. You’re a good kid. Well,” his grandpa said, looking around the room. “Maybe just a nice, clean coat of white. Maybe some lime green shutters, though,” he said with a wink.

Nate laughed as the stove timer buzzed. Not longer than ten minutes.

“You got it, Grandpa. That way, we at least win something,” he said, putting the oven mitts on his hand to pull out the container.

“We take what we can get,” his grandfather said with a sigh, standing to his feet with another creak in his knees as he walked toward the dish cabinet. He pulled out a plate and a fork and set it down on the table. Then, he reached into the fridge to grab a bottle of root beer—his favorite—and sat down.

Then the silence. Nate could feel it. The storm was rolling back in.

“I hope your hungry,” Nate said, with forced cheeriness as he set the glass pan down on the table. “Mom cooked enough to feed—”

His grandfather grabbed his arm just as he set the plate down, his grip so tight that Nate yelped. Shadows smothered the old man’s eyes as he stared into Nate’s.

“Don’t ever trust it, kid. Don’t you ever trust that thing in there. It’ll take what you love and leave you with a hole that you won’t ever cover up. Nothing can stop it. It stalks you. Don’t let it know anything about how to get to you, because it stalks you.”

Nate was frozen aside from the all-over body trembling. “Grandpa,” he managed to squeak out. “Grandpa, you’re hurting me.”

The old man never broke his stare, but promptly let go of Nate’s arm. He stared at the boy for a moment more, that cold, deep darkness still clouding his eyes.

Then the light came back and the man looked at the table with a smile, as though nothing had ever happened. “Well, that looks great, doesn’t it? Sure glad you mom found my son, he can’t boil water without burning it.”

***

Twilight fell over the fields as Nate started walking down the road.

Keep straight ahead, he told himself. He could feel the lure of the field pulling from his right. He always felt it on his walk home; something begging him to explore the cavernous veils of shadows between the stalks. But his mother and father had ordered him to never go into the field again. If he heard or felt anything funny, he was to keep looking straight ahead and, most importantly, keep walking.

The wind picked up and rustled his hair. It felt familiar and soothing. It reminded him of his grandmother, when she would smooth his hair out after he had come in for lemonade breaks while playing with his friends. Long ago, before she died.

Before the accident.

The wind came in small gusts now with a frigid bite—warnings of an evening storm that Nate didn’t want to be in. He picked up the pace, hoping the weather would hold for the remaining fifteen minutes he had left to walk.

“Nate.”

The whisper broke through the stalks. Nate froze in his step. He didn’t dare look at the field, but he listened again. Had he just heard his name?

“Nate.”

There it was, much clearer without the footfall. He could feel his skin prickle as though walking through fir trees. His breathing was jagged as he tried and failed to keep it quiet. What should he do? Should he run the rest of the way?

“Nate.”

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Nate, come in here. I’m lonely, Nate.”

The voice was stronger now, and there was no mistaking it.

“Gran?”

“Just step into the corn, Nate. I miss you so much, I just want to see you. Nate, just come in.”

Nate turned slowly to look into the stalks.

Nothing. No movements in the darkness, no shadows out of place.

He took a step toward the edge, squinting. He stood at the very edge of the concrete, his toes just against the border of stone and dirt.

“Gran?”

Silence.

He stood for a moment more, staring into darkness.

After moments of nothing, when he was just about to turn around, he saw something. It was slight, farther back than he could see to make out details. It looked like a ripple of dark cloth.

“Gran?”

“Come here, Nate,” the voice said. Nate took another step, now in the dirt. He could have reached out and touched the stalks at the edge of the field.

“Gran, can you come here?” he asked, his voice shaking again.

“I miss you, Nate. I’ll give you anything you want. Please come closer. Come talk to me.”

Nate took two, slow steps to stand right in front of the field. There was another rustle of movement, this time much closer. Nate could make out a tall, wide figure that looked like it was draped in dark cloth. It wasn’t his grandmother, but its presence radiated as easily as her voice had. It was foreboding, as twisted and dark as the shadows it moved through.

Nate gasped, taking a step backward.

“Where are you going, Nate?” His grandmother’s voice was different now, as though somebody was mimicking her with a twisted, grating growl. It sounded scathing and derisive. “I want to come, too, Nate. I’m so lonely out here.”

Before Nate could turn, a cold settled over his shoulders and knees. He fell to the ground as the wind began to roar, screeching all around him. He tried to yell, but the air was pulled from his lungs and he swore it was replaced with ice. He gasped and gaped from the pain, covering his head as the wind shrieked all around him. He felt pressure buiding up inside his head, feeling it pulsate from the base of his neck to the top of his skull, feeling as though it might be crushed at any moment.

Then, it all stopped. There was nothing but silence.

Nate took a big gulp of air in as he coughed and repeated. He laid on the ground for what felt like the whole night, though it had to be less than half an hour.

Slowly, he stood to his feet, pushing himself up with his hands. He took one shaking step to the road. Then another. Then another. Finally, he was back on the concrete.

And then, Nate ran. He ran as fast as he could, past the towers of stalks, over rough potholes that slowed him down when he tripped. It never stopped him, though. He would jump right back to his feet and run again, sprinting despite the pain of breathing in. He felt small pitter patters of raindrops hit his hair, his hands, but he never stopped. He ran as fast as he could, past neighbors’ houses, past intersections, until he saw his porch. He stopped only to open the gate, made his way across the large front yard, and then threw the front door open, running up the stairs to his room. He slapped the light switch on his way to his bed, where he pulled the covers over his head, shaking.

Once his adrenaline faded, he felt every stitch in his sides from his run. His legs shook and his mind swam, trying to make sense of what had happened out there.

He had heard her. He clearly heard his grandmother’s voice. Was she trapped out there? Or did that thing pretend to be her the whole time?

A knock from his door made him jump.

“Nate, is that you?”

Nate didn’t come out from under his covers. It sounded like his mother, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was the thing from the corn again?

“Nate?”

“Yeah,” Nate said weakly.

“Did you give your grandpa his food?”

“Yeah, he ate.”

There was silence on the other side.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. Just really tired.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He heard footsteps fading away from his door. It seemed like his real mother. But, then again, the voice between the stalks seemed like his real grandmother. Had the thing followed him? Was it waiting for him to come out of the room?

He tried to sleep that night, but just as he would doze off, he would hear that voice, his grandmother’s voice.

“I’m so lonely, Nate. Please come in here.”

***

The days were quieter after Nate saw the thing in the corn. No new voices spoke to him from the darkness. Nothing rustled the leaves of the stalks when he walked to his grandfather’s house. Whatever had happened that night, the event seemed to be done.

What Nate couldn’t see was that he was also quieter. He rarely slept through the night, jumping at every noise. He felt a heavy feeling in his stomach as he waited for something terrible to happen, and it made him nauseous to even consider eating more than a few bites of food.

“Are you okay?” his parents repeatedly asked. Nate assured him that he was, but they weren’t convinced. Doctor’s visits, x-rays, and constant phone calls and muttering filled the days after the thing in the corn.

Eventually, it was decided that Nate was showing the early stages of depression. This was an unthinkable taboo in their small town; how would his teachers react? His pastor? His friends? He wanted to tell everybody what he heard and what he saw, but would they believe him? Or would they just think that he was even crazier? They may even want to put him on medication.

In the end, the doctor suggested that Nate should take up more physical activities with people he was comfortable with. His parents believed that staying with his grandfather and helping him prepare the house to paint might be helpful.

As he was packing some clothes into his duffle bag, he heard a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” his mother asked.

“Sure,” Nate said, looking for the oldest, dirtiest shirts he could find to help clean in.

His mother entered his room and watched him for a moment. He felt her eyes following his steps, his hand movements.

“Nate, you would tell me if there was something on your mind, right?”

It wasn’t really a question. Nate’s mother had a way of sounding polite and insistent at the same time.

“Yeah, Mom,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Like I said, I dunno, I’ve just felt a little weird lately. It’s probably just stress, you know?”

“Nate, look at me.”

Nate took a breath and turned around. His mother watched him again, that kind-but-firm look, as though she were penetrating his eyes and saw straight into his brain. “Please tell me what’s going on,” she said, the calm tone dragged down by a hint of desperation.

Nate watched his mom as he shuffled a little, unsure of what to do. Part of him wanted to tell her everything that happened. But the last thing he wanted was to be branded as crazy by everybody else.

“Mom, if I asked you something, you would tell me the truth, right?”

Her brow furrowed in bemused curiosity. “Of course.”

Nate took a deep, steadying breath. “Mom, what…happened to Gran? I mean, people keep saying it was an accident, but how did she get in the middle of the cornfield accidentally?”

There was a falter in his mother’s stern gaze. She pressed her lips together tightly, her fingers tugging at her sweater a little.

“I told you, Nate, you don’t need to know—”

“You said you’d tell me the truth, Mom.”

His mother looked down at the floor and sighed, sitting on the bed.

“Gran was walking back home when we got a call from your grandpa that night that she never turned up. We went driving down that road and couldn’t find her. We called the sheriff’s office and asked if they could wake up Jennison to see if she had somehow fallen into his corn where we couldn’t find her. But you know how nervous Jennison makes them. They told us to call back in the morning if she didn’t show up.”

“So…Gran was out there alone in the field?” Nate asked, his legs feeling weak, thinking of how she must have felt. She must have been frightened.

Frightened and lonely.

His mother nodded. “We called the next day and, sure enough, they found her in the middle of the field. She was covered—well, she looked bad, but there wasn’t a mark on her.”

“Mom, what happened,” Nate asked, tears welling in his eyes as desperation grabbed his breath from his throat.

“They…never could tell us, Nate,” his mother said, looking at him sadly. “They just said it was an accident.”

“Did they talk to Jennison? Did they think he did anything?”

“No,” his mother said. “I mean—” she looked up and took a deep breath. “Yes, they did talk to him, but they didn’t stay long, and they just said that they couldn’t find any evidence that he did anything.”

Nate couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that his mother was content with the story they gave her. His lips moved soundlessly, trying to tell his mother that she was wrong, that somebody…something…had trapped his grandmother in the corn.

“It’s time to go,” his mother said, trying to snap cheeriness into her voice. “You’ve got everything? Your toothbrush? Socks? Underwear?”

“Mom,” Nate said, dragging out the word, “yes.”

His mother stood and gently pushed against the back of his head, ushering him to the door.

Nate knew there was much more to the story than his mother was telling him. Maybe more than she knew. He knew he needed to find out the truth. This meant that he had to investigate for himself. He had to go out there.

He had to go into the stalks.

***

Three days after Nate arrived at his grandfather’s, he had been tasked with helping to scrape the old, peeling paint off the porch. The task was demanding, but it was simple enough to talk and work at the same time after he found his flow. He and his grandpa talked about all the new goings on, from Andy’s missing work at the mechanic shop again to Isabella’s new friend from out-of-town coming by her fabric shop all the time. As in a town like this, it seemed nobody could keep a secret very long.

Nobody, Nate thought, except for one person.

“Grandpa, why are the police afraid of Jennison?” Nate asked, scraping paint off a particularly obstructive knot near the window.

His grandfather scoffed as he slid the scraper along the railing. “Kiddo, I’ve known Jennison since we were schoolboys. He’s always been an odd bird, you know? A lot of people sorta looked up to his family as some of the original settlers here in town, but the family also isn’t known for being communal and neighborly. Plus, the rumors that have been slung around here sure don’t help ease the nerves of young officers.”

“Rumors?” Nate said, stopping his scraping momentarily to look up, “how come I’ve never heard of any rumors?”

“Don’t know, you’re a pretty big gossiping goose in this town,” his grandpa said, laughing. After he settled a bit, he said, “rumor has it they’re into some strange things. Selling souls and blasphemy kind of things. Supposedly started way back when they got acres of worthless land and somehow made it useful.”

“Their land was worthless?”

“That’s the story,” his grandpa said, moving down the rail with smoother scrapes than Nate was capable of. “Mind you, I wasn’t born yet. Shocking, I know, but there was a time before my time. The story goes that when they came here, the other settlers already mistrusted the original Jennisons. They gave them a ‘generous’ acreage in dead, barren land, hoping they would continue onward and leave. Well, after the first season, a terrible plague hit the other farms. Everybody’s crops rotted on their grounds. The Jennisons, however, grew some of the most bountiful crops any of those more experienced farmers had ever seen.”

Nate looked down at the pale, dead wood of the porch. Dead land didn’t produce live crops, much less bountiful ones.

“Do you know what kind of stuff they were supposed to be doing, Grandpa?”

His grandpa gave one last big scrape and turned around to lean against the rail and watch Nate’s work. “Don’t know much. Had something to do with a bucket of goat’s blood and a missing woman. Paul Fellin said the whole thing was hogwash and that there were documents proving that the woman in question was found and cause of death was determined to be exposure. Lots of people still doubt it, though.”

Along with being the owner of the largest reality firm in town, Paul was also the town historian. He held degrees in both anthropology and historical preservation, and few people every doubted his expertise. If “lots of people” doubted his word, there was definitely some detail missing.

“Look, you don’t worry about Jennison, okay? You stay out of that field and mind yourself around it.”

He could hear the shake in his grandpa’s voice. Nate looked up and saw the darkness clouding again. The darkness that would take his beloved grandfather away and replace him with something different—something scarier.

Nate cleared his throat. “Did you hear about the little Owens girl?”

His grandpa was silent for a moment more, then the darkness lifted again and light came back into his eyes.

“They find her down by the lake again?”

“Yep. She said that she was watching people dance.”

“That dear duckling of ours is a strange one, that’s for sure.”

***

The day moved quickly for Nate. By supper, he could barely lift his arms or keep his eyes open, occasionally nodding off midway through his pork chop.

“Nothing like a nice, long work day to make you appreciate your bed,” his grandpa said, stretching as he stood from the table. He grabbed Nate’s plate of half-eaten food and took it to the counter. “You go on upstairs and sleep. I’ll cover this up for tomorrow’s lunch and we won’t let your parents know that you ate about three bites of dinner.”

Nate only had the strength and awareness to mumble, “thanks.” He slid from his chair and walked up the creaking wooden stairs to his room. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was drifting off. He slowly floated away from the outside world, into the softness of a happy dream. He was running with his friends through the corn again, laughing and yelling, weaving expertly in and out of the stalks.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

He was racing them to the middle of the field. They had never gotten that far, and he was determined to be the first one to reach it.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

It was a warm day, the heat soaking into his skin as he ran. The other boys were floundering with the big stalks behind him. This was easy for him. There was no boy in the whole county with his speed or agility.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address.

A breeze shuffled through the leaves of the corn, his friends’ laughter slowly fading behind him. He was going to win for sure.

Nate.

The air seemed to cool as the breeze moved across his skin like a breath from somebody looking over him, just out of sight, beyond the stalks. He must have been deeper into the field than he had ever gone. Shadows started to grow all around him.

Nate. Come here, Nate.

The air was crisp now. The shadows stretched further, overtaking the spaces between the stalks. The leaves grew more dense around him.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

Ahead, he saw a shape in the clear row. It was huddled in a mass, pale and covered in a ratty cloth.

He wanted to stop. He wanted to run back to his friends, but his feet carried him faster to the shape. Everything around him was black, now, except for nearby stalks and the shape, which started to stir.

Nate, stay here. Stay with your gran, Nate.

He saw the shape straighten up and was too terrified to scream. Clammy pale skin made his grandmother seem more like a movie prop than a person. As she lifted her head and her bloody, matted hair fell from her face, her white, dead eyes met his.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

Because corn stalks.

Nate tried to scream. He put his arms in front of his face, trying to shield himself from the shadow of the figure that was once his grandmother as she started walking toward where he was running.

I’m so lonely, Nate.

***

Nate woke with a sharp gasp. He panted and huffed as though he had just run a marathon. He was shaking all over as the images of his grandmother started slowly to fade from his memory.

Darkness had fallen outside. He looked at his phone. 2:38 a.m. His grandfather would be fast asleep. Now was the best time to investigate. Nate pulled out the black nylon backpack from the closet and pulled out his flashlight. He quietly dressed, lacing up the work boots he packed for the yard work and grabbing his jacket more for the feeling of comfort and security than for warmth.

Quietly, Nate crept down the stairs, freezing with every creak. When he reached the bottom, he stopped. He stared at the door, so close, and so easy to exit. He knew he was breaking his mother’s rule. He knew he was dismissing his grandfather’s warning.

But he had to know. He had to know the truth.

Nate walked across the living room and opened the door. He stepped out into the night air, warm and still in the darkness. In the moonlight, he saw the road ahead of him. Beyond that, the large stalks loomed into the black sky, their depths hoarding a darkness that seemed ethereal and limitless. He trudged across the yard, taking deep breaths. He stepped to the edge of the road. His heart quickened, and he felt a shiver creep across his skin despite the warmth of the night. His right hand started to sweat around the smooth metal of the flashlight as he peered into the shadows between the leaves of the stalks.

Was that movement that he saw?

Nate walked across the road, stopping just at the spot where gravel met dirt.

Through the night symphony of crickets, he heard the breeze blow.The stalks rustled with a small sigh. It was as if the entire field was slowly waking up. He could sense, rather than see, something deep within the darkness between the massive reeds of stalk and leaf. But there was no voice.

Was it waiting for him? Did it know he intended to walk inside, into the darkness?

He took a breath, then a step onto the dirt.

Nothing.

He took another step.

Nothing.

Soon, he was at the edge of the field, within fingertips’ reach of the first stalk.

Nothing.

Though the field and air and night stayed silent and still, Nate didn’t feel reassured. There was a nagging in the pit of his stomach, as though he was walking close to an angry rattler just out of his sight in the darkness; one that he couldn’t see, but could see him very well.

Nate flicked the switch on his flashlight and stepped into the corn.

The surrounding darkness seemed to conform to his body like water as he moved. Yet, the night stayed silent and still. He began meandering through the stalks, hearing nothing but his own footfall.

He walked deeper and deeper into the field, as though following an invisible trail. Occasionally, he would rip a leaf to mark his way.

Soon, the crickets’ song faded, as though before a major storm. The hairs on the back of Nate’s neck rose as he heard a new sound. It sounded as if there was another set of footsteps falling with his own.

Nate’s hands trembled as he wheeled around in all directions, shining the light into patches of deep shadow. The light bounced only feet in front of him, as though hitting a wall in the darkness.

“Is somebody there?”

He noticed his voice didn’t echo. The darkness felt closer, almost suffocating.

“Nate,” a raspy voice called out.

“Who are you?”

“Nate.”

His entire body froze. He tried to back up, but he wasn’t able to move his foot.

Come on, he thought to himself, willing his feet to take him out of the corn.

Finally, they moved—but slowly propelled him forward.

Nate’s breathing went jagged as he felt his heart beating in his throat. He felt as though a giant, invisible hand was grasping him by the shoulder and pushing with otherworldly strength.

“Help!” Nate screamed, knowing deep down that nobody could hear him. “Help me! Help!”

“Nate…they’ll never know you’re gone, Nate. They’ll forget you were ever alive.”

Nate tried to fight, not wanting to know what this meant. He tried to get away from the force.

But then the blackness surrounded him completely, and everything was silent.

***

When Nate awoke, he found he was bound tightly to something hard behind him. It took him a moment to remember where he was or what had happened. Once the memory slowly drifted back into his mind, he began to struggle and scream.

“You’re awake,” he heard a familiar voice. “Good. He hates when they sleep through the whole thing.”

Nate craned his neck as far as he could, but not seeing the figure didn’t matter; he knew Jennison’s voice after all the times the old man yelled at him for playing in the corn.

“Please,” Nate whimpered through tears. “Please let me go.”

“No can do,” Jennison said, and Nate could tell he sincerely felt some sort of regret. “There’s a pact here that has to be fulfilled. It’s an inheritance that I didn’t get to choose, but it is what it is.”

“No, no, whatever—” Nate gasped for air as his chest constricted with fear, “—whatever it is, you don’t have to do it. Please, let me go. My grandpa already lost my gran, and if he loses me too—”

“Yeah,” Jennison said, sadly, now moving to stand in front of Nate. The farmer was wearing something that looked more like a priest’s attire than farm wear. A black, long sleeve shirt was tucked in to black pants that fell just over black shoes.

“Yeah, your grandmother. Look, I’m really sorry about that whole thing. She came in here looking for her son, and he found her, and….”

Jennison trailed off and shuddered. Nate felt a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach. “What? What do you mean, ‘he found her?’ Why was she looking for my dad out here?”

Jennison sighed, rubbing his face. “Not your dad. The one that she lost. The one your grandpa…well, the one that barely made it to adulthood. She probably missed him so much. Probably heard his voice in the corn. They always hear a voice in the corn. Bet you did, too, didn’t you?”

There was a soft breeze blowing. Nate thought he could smell something faint but sharp, like rotten fruit. He struggled against the binds. “Please, please, I won’t tell anybody about this, please let me go back home.”

“Sorry, boy,” the farmer said. “Sorry, but I can’t. My family made a deal with him a long time ago. He’d take care of us, he’d look out for us like nobody ever had before. The Jennisons weren’t a noble group, you see. When we came here, we had a reputation of being thieves, drunkards and liars. They didn’t like us here. But he did. He’s been here forever, and he wanted to help us. He wanted to make sure we survived, that we were dressed and fed. All we had to do in return was feed him.”

“Who is he?” Nate asked in a shaking voice.

Jennison shrugged. “He never told us. We just know that he was here in this land before anybody existed. He won’t leave, either. He does feed, but he isn’t cruel, you know. Oh, no, your family will never know that you even existed, if they just don’t fight too much. Your grandmother fought to keep her memories. Your grandfather did better, but from what I heard in town, people say he’s ‘losing his memory.’”

“Please just let me out,” Nate pleaded again, struggling with futility against the binds.

“That’s a real irony, isn’t it, though? He’s not losing his memory, he’s gaining it back. He’s remembering things like they were before. I imagine he remembers how his son died. How drunk he was when your granddad kicked him out of the house for fighting. That kid always loved speed. Always had to be running or skateboarding or hauling down an old road that he thought was safe.”

“None of this is true,” Nate said in a weak voice. “It isn’t true.”

“Oh, it’s true. If your uncle wouldn’t have been out that night, he would probably be alive. But he crashed into a ditch, right into my corn, and took off running. He ran in here to get far away from your grandfather and, well, he did, alright. My friend was hungry. But my friend did a good thing for your family; he made them forget. Everybody but your grandmother, that is.”

The wind began to pick up, the rotting smell was stronger, making Nate’s stomach turn.

“No, no, please,” Nate begged, “please don’t do this.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Jennison said again. He walked behind Nate and grunted as he picked something up. He returned into view with a dark, silver washtub filled with an inky liquid. For a second, Nate had no idea what it could be, until the metallic smell rose above the smell of rot and the moonlight hit it just right, highlighting the red.

Blood.

“Oh, come, ancient one, in your sacred field, I offer you this meal so you may protect our family from the adversity and cruelty of the world outside.”

“No!” Nate screamed, frantically struggling with the binds. It was useless; in one, swift motion, Jennison hoisted the wash bin up and tipped it over, pouring it over Nate’s head. He screamed as the thick liquid coated him from his head to his hands, even dripping onto his shoes. The rotten smell had grown stronger, and Nate could hear something that sounded like a long, unending growl in the wind.

Then he saw it, in the long black cloak as it emerged from the stalks. He couldn’t see its face, but its decayed hand was a pale, oozing green against the dark green stalk. The growl was now in Nate’s head, followed by that twisted, rumbling voice that mimicked his grandmother.

“I’m so lonely, Nate. I’m so—”

“Nate! NATE!”

Nate wheeled his head around as something came crashing through the stalks. He saw his grandfather panting and huffing, stopping to take in the scene.

“Let him go! You let him go, Jennison, you hear me?”

“I can’t! I can’t, he has to feed. He has to eat. It isn’t just my field, don’t you get it. If he can’t eat here, he’ll go out looking.”

The creature moved closer to Nate, extending a decrepid hand toward him. Nate felt his stomach try to force out its contents and his blood turn to ice.

“Jennison, he’s a boy. Let him go! You can’t—”

“He needs to feed!” Jennison repeated, more frantic. “And you should go. Go and for the love of God, forget everything when you have the chance to! I would take that if I could. You don’t understand the luxury you have.”

The fingers brushed Nate’s neck as the dark abyss just under the hood loomed over Nate. He could no longer beg, he could no longer scream. He resigned himself to his end. He felt his energy—his very life—begin to leave his body.

“Then take me!” his grandfather snapped. “You let the boy live the rest of his life and you can gladly have me!”

The creature’s grip loosened a little. Nate wanted to protest, but he was too tired, too weak.

“My friend, this is a good deal. We can leave the boy and you can have the husband and father of your previous meals.”

No, Nate thought, but darkness had begun to overtake him. He fought against it, watching the creature round on his grandfather, watching it grab his throat and watching his grandfather’s body slowly go limp. Nate fought against the darkness until he saw his grandfather crumple to the ground like an empty husk.

Then he saw nothing more as the darkness won.

***

It was a warm summer during corn season. The long, stalks at their greenest, just before the farmer would plow at the end of the month. Nate ran around his father easily as he made a beeline for the hoop above the garage. The ball went up and cleared the rim without so much as a tap against the metal, making that satisfying swish sound as it fell back to the ground.

“Holy cow, kid, those practices are turning you into a pro! Hope you get scouted soon.”

“You and me both, dad,” Nate said, looking out past the houses across from him, into the fields of corn as he sat down on the ground to catch his breath. Those fields filled him with a wave of emotions that he didn’t understand. One feeling stood out, though.

Loneliness.

“Hey dad?” he said. “Why don’t you ever give corn your address?”

His dad tensed a little and looked down at Nate with an odd expression of shock and confusion. “Why don’t you?”

“Because corn stalks,” Nate said. The words didn’t seem funny, though. They seemed dark—almost foreboding. Corn stalks.

“Where did you hear that from?”

Nate shrugged, looking at his dad. “I don’t know. I just thought of it, I guess.”

His dad gave a soft laugh. “Your grandpa used to tell that joke over and over when I was your age.”

“Really?” Nate asked.

“Yeah. I thought he made it up. Don’t know how you know it, with him dying before you were born.”

Something about the sentence seemed off. Nate had no memory of his grandfather, but he always felt connected to him, like he had known him a long time ago, as a different person.

But something about his grandfather also filled him with sadness and fear.

“Come on,” his dad said, breaking his thoughts. “We need to get in before your mom throws our dinner away.”

Nate stood up and started to follow his father into the house. Before entering, he stopped and looked back out into the corn, feeling a chill run down his spine.

Because corn stalks.