No one believed me when I said I’d uncover the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle. They didn’t believe I’d find you, Celestine. I stand here now, in the very center of it all, on some sort of platform that can’t be seen by the naked eye. The fog has thickened to a point where I can’t see my hand stretched out in front of me, and the sky above is as dark as a hurricane, with an ominous violet tint.
The electricity in the air, its powerful static raises every hair on my body, leaving me with the tingly feeling of insects crawling on my skin. I fear when the lightning strikes, it will aim for me instead of the beacons beneath the surface.
I close my eyes, listening to the growing rumble of thunder, waiting for death, and seeing your face, Celestine. I can feel every droplet of rain on my skin, as if the Earth has slowed down. I can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to have one’s life flash before their eyes. To know that one’s stop is coming up on this train wreck we call, life.
_Which way will I go, up or down? Do such places exist?! _My final thoughts are screaming to me amidst the ear-bursting cackle of thunder and lightning.
Finally, I open my eyes, and find I haven’t gone up, nor down, but am given the chance to step forward. “It worked.” I chuckle nervously, in great disbelief of what’s going on around me. “It actually worked!”
The lightning bolts dance before me, holding open a door that I can’t see. It sounds insane, but I know this is real because I can hear voices, and a ship on the other side. I’m hoping you are part of their laughter, Celestine.
I reach my hand forward, and as I pass through this divine or demonic gate, my body grows heavy. I am sinking…
Falling…
…Losing…consciousness…
As promised, I awakened to a sky so dark I couldn’t help but question if it were truly morning. My bed called to me, begging me to stay wrapped in the warm, cozy embrace of my blanket, and the strong arms of my fiancé. Tempting as it was, I had to decline. Today was a special day, marking ten years since my life changed forever.
As part of the day’s tradition, I prepared a generous helping of scrambled eggs, crispy maple bacon, and the thickest Belgian waffles I’d ever seen. To drink, my love and I would have my favorite autumn beverage, hot apple cider.
I gazed hopelessly through the tall windows. If anyone had told my younger self that I’d live in a penthouse with the man of my dreams, I wouldn’t have believed them. I wouldn’t have believed that my debut novel, now eight years old, would get me here.
“Morning, Em.” Hunter greeted me with his hands slipping around my waist, and a tender kiss on the left side of my head. He took a moment to gently nuzzle my chestnut hair, but despite his affection, it made me cringe. “You know I don’t like to be touched there.” I nearly whisper, tightening my grip on the knife. “I know, I’m sorry.” He pecked one more kiss on my cheek, calming my nerves before he pulled away. “What time are we heading out?” Hunter asked, carrying his mug to the table.
I had to break the news to him, and hoped he wouldn’t ask questions. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the delicious scent of breakfast. “…I was actually thinking of going alone.” I said, carrying our plates to the table. “Why?” He asked, furrowing his brow. “What happened to following our routine? Remember when you freaked out on me for suggesting we stop by the hospital?” “This year feels…different.” I frowned. “More personal, somehow… I’d like to be alone, maybe go for a drive.” “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, holding my hand. “I’m here for you.” “I know, but I’m fine. I’ll stop by the cemetery, take that package over to my mother, then see you for dinner.” “All right.” He sighed. “Be careful… I love you.” Those three words melted my heart and put a smile on my face. I hated lying to him, but if he knew the truth, he’d intervene.
I didn’t lie about the cemetery. For my friends, my sisters, I brought them each a beautiful white rose. This was the first time I hadn’t left them a bouquet, simply because I couldn’t stomach the gesture any longer. They weren’t there, resting below those gravestones. Everyone knew it. Their bodies, as many believed, were somewhere in the mountains.
_We were seniors in high school, ready to create the best memories before heading our separate ways for college. Naya, my best friend, came up with this writing project for us back in tenth grade. We were going to start working on our debut novels, then share and critique them at the start of senior year. We were ecstatic, and though it was hard trying to keep our ideas to ourselves, we prevailed. _ The time to share had finally arrived, but we agreed that moment, our moment, deserved so much more than our little corner of the library.
“What about Harlow’s Peak?” Megan suggested. Harlow’s Peak had been a popular campsite in the mountains, and the cabin by the lake was said to be the best spot. Ten out of ten ratings, perfect for family, friends, couples. Perfect for our little writing retreat. We had to go.
“Not a good idea. It’s not safe.” Cereza’s words haunted me ever since. Like a tattoo on my brain, I’d wake up to those words every morning, and fall asleep to them at night. __
_Cereza had always been a strange, quiet girl. I could never describe her as anything other than a living, breathing, gothic porcelain doll. From the way she dressed, to her beautiful, thick black curls, to her piercing ice blue eyes, and she had the most adorable freckles. _ __ __ __ A beautiful girl like her could’ve easily been the most popular in school, but she wasn’t. People called her a freak. Her life was like a horror movie, and because of that, we didn’t listen to her warning about the men who terrorized Harlow’s Peak wearing Halloween masks. It had me and Alexis spooked, but Megan and Naya really wanted to go, and convinced everyone we’d be safe.
Our trip was set for the weekend, right before Halloween. The plan was to leave Friday after school, share our stories, then get back to my house by Saturday night to get ready for Hunter’s Halloween party.
In the early hours of our little retreat, we had a blast. We took pictures, played a few games, had breakfast for dinner, and read snippets of our manuscripts before exchanging our first chapters. We were in the middle of reading when our trip took a turn for the worst. Those men showed up, and terrorized us the entire night.
I had taken a blow to the head, and was almost strangled to death, but managed to survive that nightmare.
Ever since that night, people stopped camping at Harlow’s Peak. Nowadays, only the brave would venture out there to checkout the cabin by the lake, and explore the woods.
The cabin’s windows and doors were boarded up, and covered in old caution tape that dangled in the wind. I couldn’t imagine what it looked like inside. Standing on the porch was enough to make my heart beat out of my chest.
“I miss you, girls.” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes as I rested the bouquet of white roses on the ground. I glanced down at the package in my hand, but movement in the woods pulled my attention away. My heart sunk. Hanging from one of the trees was a little plush lion that used to belong to Naya. It was the last gift her grandfather had given her before he died. I had to be seeing things. I had to be wrong.
My feet pulled me closer and closer, crunching the blanket of leaves, until they froze. I stood face to face with this stuffed animal, my eyes fixed on its right foot where Naya’s name had been stitched on. My eyes wandered further into the woods, widening as they landed on Megan’s favorite blue cardigan.
I had to get them back. They didn’t belong here. I untied the lion, rushed over and freed the cardigan. “Hey!” I shouted at the person ahead of me, watching them run away from a green and white sneaker that belonged to Alexis. I ran to retrieve it, and realized it had been laced with a ribbon that Cereza used to wear. They had no right to disrespect my friends, especially not today. I searched for them, screamed for them until my throat was on fire. I wanted to kill them.
“Stop!” I shouted, watching them enter one of the other cabins. Without hesitation, perhaps it was the adrenaline, I followed them. “Looking for me?” They asked, lowering their hood, turning my skin pale as a ghost.
“Cereza.” I whispered. “Y-you’re awake?” “I’ve been awake for the last six years.” She said, her eyes fixed on the package. “I see you brought that with you. Planning to burn it?” “You sent me this?” I questioned. “Why? What’s the point?” “Open it.” She commanded, turning her attention to her phone. I rested the box on the table and tore it open. I’d received this package a week ago. Inside was a manuscript, detailing the events that took place that night. I couldn’t understand why she would send me this.
“Cereza….why?” I asked, desperate for answers. “To refresh your memory.” She lowered her phone. “You changed a lot, and left out some details in your book. You said you didn’t know who hit you over the head. Why didn’t you tell everyone it was me?”
“Y-you were in a coma. I didn’t want people coming to hurt you.” “Bullshit. You painted both of us in a heroic light because I survived. You wanted to stay on my good side. According to my family, people wouldn’t stop coming to the hospital to find out if I’d woken up, so they had me relocated. It’s funny. Before, and after the move, they said Hunter used to visit me four times a week. That stopped when he started dating you.”
“That’s not true.” I protested. “Why would they lie? Why would Hunter lie? You knew he loved me.” “No. No! This is crazy, Cereza!” I shouted, slamming the manuscript on the table. “You made me sound like a monster! Like I planned the whole thing!” “You did. Those men were never caught. You failed to mention that the man in the clown mask, the one you locked me in the basement with, was your brother.”
I took a deep breath, carried her manuscript to the trash, and used my lighter to burn it. “…No one would believe you, Cereza. If anything, they’re more likely to believe you were the mastermind behind that night. You were the school freak, not me.” “They’ll believe me when they find the bodies buried beneath this cabin. They’ll believe me, because where you saw an opportunity for a book deal, your brother saw something a little more cinematic. I know what he released online, and I’ve seen what he kept for himself.” She explained.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, as calmly as I could. My phone began to vibrate an endless stream of notifications. I wanted to shut my phone off, until I saw a message from Hunter.
**_What the fuck is going on?! What is this?!
_**I opened his text, and with trembling hands, I clicked the link he sent me. It was the footage from that night. I saw myself on that screen, pulling off my own mask, aiming that gun at Cereza. I saw the emails, the plans my brother and I sent to each other.
The manuscript Cereza had sent me… It couldn’t be the only copy. I had no idea if, or when the world would read it, but after this video….they wouldn’t need to.
The howling wind rattled the old wooden shutters, and snapped the thickest tree branches in its violent rage. Gallons of rain poured onto the blanket of soggy autumn leaves, drowning them in murky mud pools. Lightning lit up the sky, paving the way for the booming drums of thunder. The night was sure to be as restless as the one they left fourteen years ago.
“Didn’t think you’d come.” Juliet muttered, her eyes glued to the maggot-infested dishes on the old dining table.
“Couldn’t let you do this alone.” Mason said before resting a red can of gasoline on the dirty floor. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Juliet scoffed, bumping him with her shoulder as she entered the living room.
“Jules, come on, don’t be like that.” He pleaded, taking hold of her arm to stop her in her tracks.
“Like what?! Pissed?!” Juliet yanked her arm away and shoved him. “You left me! After five years, you abandoned me!”
“I did what was best for both of us! Look around you! Had I stayed, this is the only life I could’ve given you, and I refuse to be like him!” Mason explained, tears stinging his eyes.
His words struck Juliet like a pile of bricks. She folded her arms, consoling herself, hoping it would ease the chills running up her spine as she looked around the room. The memories she worked tirelessly to forget were at the forefront of her mind. The moldy couch, the shattered picture frames, the blood-stained rug. Every inch of that isolated, run down cabin in the woods held a memory of the life they once knew.
“…I did everything I could to protect you.” Mason began, leaning back against the wall, folding his arms as she did. “Leaving you hadn’t crossed my mind until that night.”
“But I was happy.” Juliet insisted through the lump in her throat, inching closer to him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” He asked, and Juliet paused, unsure what to say. “I know what happy looks like on you, Jules. It’s the company you keep, the family you’ve found, the dream you achieved, and the stars you’re still reaching for.”
Juliet hated crying, but for him, she could never hold back her tears. Her shoulders sunk in defeat, dropping her arms at her sides. “Then why are you here?” She wept. “If you’re just going to leave me again, why are you here?”
“…Because I need this as much as you do.” Mason answered. He closed the gap between them, and pulled her into his arms. “We can’t keep running to a safe space that was meant to destroy us.”
Juliet held onto him tightly, and though she never wanted to let go, she knew she had to. “Fine…” she stubbornly agreed, “but I get the lighter.”
“I can hear you breathing.” I sang, tauntingly as I entered that cold, dry, box of a room. I twisted the knob, guiding the door gently to a silent close. Then one by one, I turned, pushed, and chained each lock. This was my place. My safe haven. My…bubble. “You don’t have to do this.” She pleaded, watching me twirl the tip of my blade against the wooden table. I nearly chuckled at such a cliché line, circling around the room, openly stalking my prey. Of course I didn’t have to. I wanted to. I stopped in front of her. This terrified woman tied to metal chair that I’d bolted into the floor, pleading for her life through endless tears. “Why not?” I asked, following with, “No. you know what? Let’s play a game. I’ll give you five minutes.” “…F-For what?” She wondered, with a growing lump in her throat. She tried so hard to be strong, and I thought that was so adorable. Holding up my stopwatch, and seating myself on the floor, I continued, “Convince me. Why should I let you leave this place alive? Make every second count.” As soon as I started the timer, and rested the watch down beside me, she began.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids. You were always so shy, and you had one of the kindest hearts I’d ever known. You were selfless, and generous. This….this isn’t you. I know how hard it’s been. Your family was toxic, and they walked all over you. For some odd reason, you could never form a bond strong enough to keep around the people you called your friends. You don’t trust anyone. I know- …I know how you feel. You want to find your place in the world. There’s still time. You have so much time to do great things. You’ve been sad, and lonely, and all you’ve ever wanted was to be heard. To be seen. To be respected and taken seriously. It’s not your fault. You were never the problem.”
She was getting through to me, and she knew it. I could see the light, the hope, growing in her eyes.
“You are not your father.” She continued. “You don’t have a heart so dark you’d abandoned the people who need you most. Stepping in and out of their lives to make yourself seem like you care. You are not your mother, who had children before you, but chose to lean on you. You don’t take advantage of people’s kindness, or pull them back into the dark places they’re trying to leave behind. You are, and have always been so much stronger than you believed. You want to get better. You want to be better. I will help you. Finding your way in life…it’s tough. Especially when your family has made you feel like a robot, waiting for its next command. You are broken, but you don’t have to stay that way. What’s this about? Power? You want to feel in control? There are better ways to have those things, and I will help you. What will killing me do? What will killing anyone do for you? Let me in. I will teach you everything they failed to. I will guide you, and make sure you live a long and happy life. You are not alone. Okay? I’m here and I always will be.”
My eyes remained glued to hers as I raised and stopped the timer. My eyes shifted toward those frozen numbers, then back to her. They stung, and blurred, and drained salty streams down my cheeks. I thought she would’ve talked about herself, but instead she talked about me. She wanted to help me. Her head raised as I stood, never taking her weeping eyes off me. I’d caught a hint of her smile. She knew she’d gotten through. There was a heavy weight on my chest that I hadn’t felt in years.
Forcing my feet, I approached her, one step at a time. I could feel the warmth from my own smile. My heart was beginning to melt. Her smile soon faded, and while she was confused, she seemed so hopeful when I showed her the time.
…She was three seconds over the limit, and my heart hadn’t melted enough.
A blank slate. I was running through an endless fog, desperately trying to find my way back. Trying to remember. My brain pushed hard against my skull, ready to burst. What was it? What was I trying to remember? I thought it best to start with my name, rather than why my body wandered to this abandoned house.
I traced my fingertips slowly across the dining table, picking up layers of dust that blanketed the surface. The room was in ruins, yet I felt a comforting sense of warmth. It wasn’t a dining room meant for show. It was used. It was loved. I imagined the family that once lived here had shared many pleasant meals together. I wondered- …hoped, this happy family included me.
The stairs creaked the loudest as I climbed up to the second floor. The window at the end of the corridor was shattered, and a cold breeze blew through the heavy curtains. I folded my arms, fearful of what I’d discover on this floor. It was strange. Something was telling me to go back. To leave this place. I couldn’t. This was my only lead. I needed to know who I was, and maybe find some documents that could get me an ID card.
There were two doors by the broken window. One was shut tight, but the other was cracked a bit. I was hesitant at first, but with a sweaty palm I pushed the squeaky door open. The room was split in half, clearly shared between a teenager and a child. The room was in complete shambles, but I’d found myself drawn to the stains on the floor. I had no idea what they were, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of them. Why? Why did I feel paralyzed? What was the sound echoing through my ears?
Boots? Slow, heavy steps. Boom. Boom. Boom, up the stairs. I could feel their presence right outside the door. Their hand twisted the knob right before a woman sternly said, “what are you doing here?! Get out!”
“I came for my girls. Did you really think you could keep me away from them?” His tone was aggressive.
“They’re asleep, and they don’t want to see you. Not after what you’ve done.”
That’s where it ended. Where the world fell silent once again. Was that…a memory? My hands were trembling as I stepped even further into the room, approaching the fallen desk. Makeup and sheets of paper were scattered across the floor. Most of the pages were blank, while others were drawn on. I’d assumed the girls who lived here were artists. One who had years of practice but still a long way to go, and the other was in a very early stage. My face pulled back into a smile as I admired the drawings. I couldn’t help but dream of being so talented.
I’d rested the drawings back onto the floor as a little pink book caught my attention. It was smothered in stickers, and cute sharpie doodles of hearts, flowers, and various swirls. The word “diary” was coated in what felt like glitter. Like everything else, it was smothered in dust. I’d searched for a name, peeling off the stickers that may have been hiding it. Nothing. The book was locked tight, and it wasn’t one of those cheap diaries that you could open easily without the key. I didn’t want to destroy the diary. My fear urged me to leave the house, but I had a greater desire to find out what was written in this book.
I raised the desk, letting it lean against the wall, and then began my search for this key. I’d found one, but it was too big for the diary. Safe inside a small jewelry box, the key was spotless. I tucked it into my coat pocket…then the front door opened….