let's split up, gang

Had this happened before? It felt like such a familiar sensation, to be drawn to Jaylen, though Tommy had never expected it to be in this way. He always wanted to be near him, and most times he was near him he wanted to be close, touching, to make him laugh and have him do the same, but he hadn’t anticipated this feeling to overwhelm him. Now all he wanted to do was kiss him.

Tommy was barely able to consciously register what was going on enough to process it, let alone fight it, so he let the instinct take over. The gap between them slowly closed as Tommy’s lips met Jaylen’s softly, brushing over them at first as if he was testing the waters. Without even thinking about it, his free hand moved to hold the side of Jaylen’s face, as if he was holding him there so he couldn’t move away, though something about the way they were wrapped around each other told him he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then the kiss deepened, and he was surprised to find just how soft the other man’s lips were. Tommy felt like his head was underwater, but instead of needing to pull back, it was Jaylen that was allowing him to breathe. In that moment he felt like he needed him, needed this, and it was plain to see in the way he was now holding him firmly and kissing him hard that perhaps he’d wanted to do this all along.

He’s thought about this. Maybe a few too many times than he’s willing to admit, even to himself. More times than he should have, especially given their just friends. And close friends at that. Close friends aren’t supposed to think about how hard they want to kiss their other close friends... or what it would be like to kiss other places: neck, chest, stomach. But still in every wandering little touch— some tentative, posing the silent questions their mouths had been too cowardly to form, others sure and firm— Jaylen had felt a strange sense of hope rise up in his chest, sparking up and dying with a sharp tug of the wind, leaving only smoke in its wake.

Now he feels the warm, slick press of Tommy’s lips smearing against his, and that flame’s caught onto the space behind his ribs, climbing high up into his cheeks, higher still in the tips of his ears. Ears that are full of sparking sounds, little pops and fizzles that remind Jaylen of firecrackers. 

He feels a bit pathetic, coming so easily done by something so irrefutably simple, but he can’t help himself. Maybe it’s the ever-growing anticipation that’s left the barrier around his heart so thin, having grate against it every time it skipped a beat. Maybe it’s Tommy’s hands gripping him, pressing hard enough that all Jaylen can do to ground himself is wrap his arms around Tommy’s neck and invite him closer, the taste on his tongue too sweet to give up now.

WADE + INCORRECT QUOTES (3/?)

WADE + INCORRECT QUOTES (2/?)

Remi nodded quietly when he questioned her holy grail ingredient.  “It’s like… really high quality?” she tried to explain so that it didn’t sound like she was just spouting nonsense. “Like, instead of the stuff you get from McCormick in the bottle at the grocery store that’s a straight up liquid, it’s like… you can get a paste, but paste isn’t the right word it’s like really goopy but… Yeah, just try the cookies, I swear I’m not bullshitting you on the fact that there’s a difference.” Remi looked at Jaylen when he had settled in, a hesitant smile spreading on her face when she realized he wasn’t genuinely questioning her.

Her hands were flat on the countertop with measured anticipation as he tried the cookie. It was a point of pride that he reacted in approval, both because it was a challenge to make such a classic treat stand out and it was a sign that she wasn’t completely wasting her time paying for classes at the community college. 

After dragging a kitchen bench to sit across from Jaylen, Remi rest her chin in her hand. “Well, honestly, I’ve only heard whisperings in the grocery store and my mom on the phone. I guess like… why are people so fucked up over Josie dying? That’s probably a good place to start?” She paused for a moment before pointing at the cookies, “Before you get started… Milk? Coffee? I think we have lemonade or something?”

His eyelids flutter at the sudden influx of information. He honestly didn’t think Remi Voss had it in her to carry out conversations this easily, smoothly. But he should really stop comparing her to the hazy-eyed near zombie she’d been in high school. Still, he can’t help but wonder when she’d changed, found herself, maybe. He wonders how long she’d had to look.

“Ohh, coffee.” He perks up the moment it’s mentioned, index finger pointing towards her face. “Coffee would be so dope.” He waits until she’s turned around to pull a face, a little startled by how blasé Remi could be towards the subject of... well, death. He knew she could be cold, but damn...

“I mean, it’s Josie. She was pretty much everyone’s grandma, dude. You ever had tea in that woman’s living room? It’s straight up reachin’ a level of Nirvana, bro.” He lets out a little sigh through his nose, feeling an ache tug from somewhere deep in his chest. “So, there’s that. And then it’s like... Her death is so sketchy. She didn’t just kick the bucket. Sure, she was kinda old, but there was nothin’ medically wrong with her. And they found her in that clearing? That place s’bad fuckin’ news. Has been for a long time now.”

Mason leaned back in her chair as she absorbed the information, a hand unconsciously going up to her face, knuckles balancing delicately on her lips – the position she took when she was doing her best thinking. 

“You know what, I’ve actually seen something like that before,” she said, “I was in Reno and these doctors had called it ‘metal hypersensitivity’ and classified as some bizarre type of allergy. The thing was, the woman who had this so called hypersensitivity had it to a degree which none of the doctors had ever seen before. It wasn’t the usual sort of skin reaction, but something more… internal. Her cells were reacting aversely to metal. All kinds. They never could quite figure out what was wrong. Kind of sounds like Josie, don’t you think?”

Now on a roll, Mason’s knuckles had left her lips and now her elbows were propped one on each knee, leaning in toward Jaylen again. 

“And here’s where it really gets good: this woman was also showing some severe psychoform dissociative symptoms. Or signs of possession, if you will. The only thing that trips me up is the fact that studies have shown that spirit and demon possession is categorically more common among marginal, underprivileged or subordinate peoples. The woman in Reno was a person of color, homeless. Josie wasn’t any of those things. Although… intra-physic tension also tends to be a big trigger, which is entirely possible.”

“What I’m getting at here is that spirits or demons don’t just enter a body without some kind of invitation, whether the host is aware they’ve invited it in or not.” Pausing for a moment, she tilted her head in thought, brushing away a curl that had fallen in her face. “If only we knew what Josie had gotten herself up to in her final days…” 

His ears practically perk up. She’s seen this before. What started as a rootless theory he’d thrown out in hopes it would stick is now something concrete, proven, something to scrawl in his leather-bound notebook. He scoots his bag towards him, slipping the notebook in question into his grip. The black ribbon hanging along the spine leads him to the creased page he’d dedicated to this theory. He snags the customary motel pen from its place on the desk and has to work it in circles along the page’s bottom corner. Eventually the ink flows freely, and he scrawls an arrow to indent his paragraph, shortly followed by the words: Reno. Metal hypersensitivity? Cell reaction?

The words “Psychoform dissociative symptoms” get their own space and an oil stain from the butter still on his fingertips. He punctuates the line with an arrow that leads up to where he’d previously written “Possession? Demonic?”

“I ain’t heard anyone talkin’ ‘bout Josie hittin’ up ghosts in her house either, so...” He trails off, leaning his weight onto an elbow and smushing up his lips with his index finger pressed against his cupid’s bow. “They found her in that clearing though... You think maybe it wasn’t what Josie did but where she ended up? Y’know, sketchy people are out there all the time... Maybe it wasn’ Josie at first, but whatever possessed her ended up likin’ her energy anyway, y’know?”

Confusion was written all over DJ’s face. Exactly. Exactly what? She had just said she couldn’t be haunted by something that doesn’t exist. So… Was he saying the ghosts didn’t exist or was he saying that she would be haunted because ghosts do exist? One single word, meant to be so cut and dry, had become so ambiguous DJ didn’t even know what to say. “That made no sense. Absolutely no sense. Like… a negative amount of sense.” A small chuckle escaped her as she shook her head.

A smile grew on DJ’s lips. “I would sell a kidney for some cheese fries right now. That and some Monster.” Even though she probably shouldn’t drink an energy drink that could potentially contribute to her feeling more and more anxious. “Cheese fries on me, you buy the drinks?” DJ questioned, making her way towards the store they had been standing outside of for far too long.

It had been a couple of days since they’d seen each other and, for all his unfounded theories and beliefs, DJ liked talking to Jaylen about stuff. And the latest stuff was Red’s outburst and basically a confirmation that the cops weren’t doing much —- which many had been talking about. “So…” A ding! echoed in the semi-empty convenience store. “Were you at the Spring Celebration? Red’s whole… thing?”

EXT.  QUICK STOP — APRIL 11TH, 2020

Jaylen turns on his heel the moment he hears the door swing open, holding open the pages of the GQ magazine he’d grabbed more to stare at Chris Hemsworth’s abs than for any interest in “How to Grow a Beard for the First Time.”

He flips the pages shut with a flick of his wrist, eyes stretching wide. “Yeah,” he says, the same way someone might say yikes. 

He slips the magazine back into place on the rack. Chris’s washboard abs can wait; there are more important things to discuss now. “I feel... kinda bad— I ended up catchin’ the whole thing on tape...” And he does feel bad... A little bad. And maybe he would feel it more so if the journalist in him wasn’t too busy doing a Super Bowl touchdown-esque victory dance.

WADE + INCORRECT QUOTES (1/?)

the young woman let out a soft sigh. as of recently, she’d developed the nasty habit of feeling entitled to all of the answers and explanations; disappointing prospects no longer sat well with her.

     “if someone actually took her, they would’ve struggled carrying the body, their steps would’ve been heavier and sloppier,” nora mused, but agreed with him. “you’re right, though, there’s nothing.” 

  “i don’t see any dents in the walls–”she eyed the area around the doorframe leading into the viewing room– “but i still think it’s worth looking. how d’you the bodysnatchers managed to get in?”

“Goes to show might not’ta been someone,” Jaylen points out, scanning a light along the doorjamb by the front, checking for... In all honesty, he isn’t entirely sure what he’s searching for. What do dead women leave behind as they’re carried out of their own funeral?

“I ‘unno, Fangs.” He settles both hands on his hips, eyes scanning the wallpaper starting to peel along the edges. Why can’t anything in this damn place stay where it belongs? 

“Couldn’t exactly sneak her in and out a window, neither...” That feeling’s starting to creep up on him, the feeling that makes him feel as if his spine has turned into a Jenga pile, threatening to slip free with one wrong tip. It’s the helplessness that sets in when he’s particularly stumped. 

A beat. Two. “Think we should check the coffin?”

Oblivious to the rising tension, Tommy charged ahead with Jaylen in tow. He tried to ignore the way that having his arm around the other man felt different after their encounter the week prior, but convinced himself that nothing about this was out of the ordinary. On any other day he would have kept Jaylen close without a second thought, so why was he tangled with doubt and uncertainty now?

It didn’t matter. They had come here with a task to do, so he did what he could to focus his attention on that. “It’s not far up ahead. We’re looking for clues, answers, whatever. Something that’ll tell us what kinda weird shit is going on, and something to get you to finally agree with us that there is.” He smiled excitedly at DJ over his shoulder, the beam of his torch creating enough light for him to form a path to follow. “Did anyone bring a weapon?” His thoughts shifted erratically, as they usually did, to the fact that there was always a possibility of danger. Somehow he hadn’t considered that before. 

( @jaylenmaxwell​ )

He has to shrug the strap from his camera underneath Tommy’s hand, making him hold the least bit closer to reassure Tommy he isn’t shrugging him off. Not that he needs Tommy to hold onto him; he can let go any time he pleases. That’s obvious, right? Please let that be obvious.

He nods along to Tommy’s response. “And on the off-chance it isn’t somethin’ supernatural, we could at least poke ‘round 'n see if anyone who got mixed up in Josie’s...” murder doesn’t quite feel like the right word, “death might’a left somethin’ behind. Somethin’ that might give us a clue who it was... Or what.” He’s halfway through a particularly long inhale when he catches Tommy’s question, brows raising. “Uh... I could use the camera case... Doe could... smother someone with a blanket?”

It wasn’t possible for Jaylen to sit on questions very long. He hated those squiggly little marks, the shift in inflection with each one that left anyone’s mouth, his own included. It made things incomplete, and that made something in his head pound like the reverberating beat of a bass drum.

He spots Rosalyn at the bar, the darkness of her hair making even the hazy light from overhead stark against it. And he finds the seat next to her, hoping she’s at least moderately drunk, that she’ll let something slip.

What the hell had she handed off to the cops? He’s sure medical professionals get mixed in with the pigs all the time, especially given the amount of medical analysis victims require. But how significant was this particular document? Was it just a report? More importantly, what the hell was on in?

“Come ‘round here often?” While he knows Rosalyn has been immune to Jaylen’s particular brand of charm, he can’t help but use it to ease into the conversation, so of course he opens with a joke. Everyone in Wade comes around here often.

WHEN & WHERE: 3:33 a.m, kane funeral home  WHO: jaylen – @jaylenmaxwell 

   treading lightly to keep the floorboard from creaking under her footprint, nora moved around the room. her eyes traced the frames of the doors and the wooden floor, in the search for any possible markings, dents or prints that could indicate josie’s body had indeed been carried out of the home. every now and then, the shadow cast by the outline of the furniture under her phone’s flashlight forced her to suppress a gasp. 

     “found anything yet?” 

“Not really,” Jaylen calls back, eyes fixed on the aisle between the rows of seats. There isn’t much there other than a couple of hard candies and mints that have certainly adhered to the tacky carpeting lining the floors. He lets out a sigh, turning back to Nora, raising his flashlight high enough to scan over her face. “What’chu lookin’ at over there? I don’t think there’s shit on the floor. Maybe we should start goin’ around the walls?”

Tommy knew that Jaylen would make the perfect audience for this kind of idea, the kind who asks no questions and contributes without a second thought. He nodded in agreement at all the other suggestions and raised his glass with a cocked eyebrow and a mischievous smirk on his lips. “Cheers.” He grinned, clinking his glass against Jaylen’s before necking back a big swig, indicating that the game had well and truly begun. 

Tommy did as he’d intended, hunting down a playlist on YouTube of various ‘ghost hunting’ or paranormal investigation videos, and he should have foreseen just how effective their game would be. He was finishing off his drinks quicker than he could have anticipated, constantly trying to keep them topped up while steadily slipping further and further into intoxication. Tommy had never had an issue of boundaries with Jaylen, they always seemed to be close to one another, but as the time passed it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

With their legs tangled and his arm around Jaylen to hold him in a cuddle against his chest, Tommy groaned as the woman on screen gasped and showed the camera her goosebumps again, meaning he had to drink. “We could make a show way better than this lady.” He almost giggled, his eyes averting from the screen to search Jaylen’s face. He felt like he was looking at him for the first time, only just noticing how his bottom lip out-sized the top in a beautifully asymmetrical way, with eyes that felt so deeply brown they drew him in and kept his gaze. The smile on his lips faded and he found himself staring, or was he just trying to focus his vision impaired by the drink? He wasn’t sure just how close their faces were but it felt like they were miles apart, like he wanted to look at him more intently, like he ought to just move that little bit closer…

Somewhere along the line, Jaylen’s fairly sure he’s started breaking rules, sipping a little more than allotted here, swigging during a particularly long lull there... And it’s caught up with him.

It almost feels as if Tommy’s mattress has been set adrift, rocking easily with laps of would-be waves in an open sea. Except Jaylen doesn’t feel like he’s on water. He feels as if he’s been filled with it, every shift and tilt making it weigh down one side more so than the other. It makes it that much easier to settle against Tommy’s chest, bundled into him, the water inside him finally level. That is until Jaylen tilts his head back to look up at Tommy, the crown of his head suddenly too heavy to keep off of the pillow as a delirious laugh slips free from his lips.

“We’d make such a better show,” he agrees, not even bothering nodding. He doesn’t look back at the screen to confirm that statement, though. He finds he can’t, really. Not now that he’s staring at Tommy, and Tommy’s staring back at him, and... Tommy’s eyes are this warm, deep brown that’s a little impossible to turn away from. And they’re steady, now... Steadier than Jaylen thinks he’s ever seen them, at least in terms of when Tommy’s looked at him. Until they’re gone... And back... Gone, back again.

They’ve been in this position before. Maybe more times than Jaylen lets himself to think about. But Tommy’s eyes have never lingered quite this long, and it’s entirely subconscious when Jaylen’s knee tucks back, hugging Tommy’s leg just a little bit closer with his own. As many times as this line has blurred between them, they’d never crossed it. And Jaylen, not sure if he’s simply entertaining a precious little fantasy, doesn’t dare to now. He shouldn’t, not when he doesn’t know how Tommy feels about... well, guys in general, sure, but more specifically, about, well, Jaylen. But damn... those eyes are threatening to completely devastate his good intentions.

There was a childlike grin on Tommy’s face as the trunk opened up like a pirate finding treasure, only his booty was just torches and radios. Being easily entertained made most things more fun than they ought to be. He took the whiskey from Jaylen and had a swig of his own before passing it back to him as if it belonged to him, then reached into the trunk to hand out the ‘equipment’ to everyone before closing the trunk. “I got ‘em from a very legal and normal place.” Tommy replied, deliberately shifty as he smirked at DJ. Whether that was true or not was debatable, but Tommy liked the element of mystery.

“I hope those snacks are for everyone.” He chuckled to Henley, before his face contorted into an expression of confusion as DJ linked her arm with the other girl’s. He glanced to Jaylen before throwing his arm around his shoulders to mock DJ playfully. “Let’s fuck some demons.” He said confidently, though it wasn’t exactly the combination of words he had intended. 

( @jaylenmaxwell·· )

“Fine! Fine...” Jaylen calls back to Henley, though he doesn’t need to say much else as Tommy swipes the bottle from his hand, forcing him to oblige. He juts out his bottom lip for only a moment, but then a grin is spreading over his face before he snorts and tucks the bottle under his arm. “So Radioshack,” he confirms, arching a brow in DJ’s direction.

His eyes only break from her when Tommy’s slung his arm around Jaylen’s shoulder, Jay’s eyes flickering over and down to the other. Despite the cold, Tommy’s arm feels warm through his jacket... It’s a warmth Jaylen welcomes. He considers lacing their fingers, but the memory of just over a week ago comes to mind... and he thinks better of it. This is casual. Just their usual, playful fun. So instead, his fingers wrap around Tommy’s wrist, elbow hanging by his side so his hand is weighing Tommy’s down, keeping it there. “Why you tryna fuck ‘em, man? You’ll get sunburn on your dick or somethin’.”

He lets out a little laugh, turning his head towards Henley. “Aye yo, Doe! Hit me up with one of those Oreos.”

As per, Henley reaches for the hand grip the moment she sees Jaylen shift into gear. Rarely does she feel carsick, her mother’s weak, fluttering complaints when she falls victim to nausea making her feel as lucky as she does guilty, but Jaylen’s driving tests that tolerance.

She’s never really sure when she can and can’t ask about Jaylen’s work. Henley figures that the confidentiality may be on a similar level to that of police investigations; so she always lets Jaylen reveal what he likes. It doesn’t hinder her curiosity, though, and she looks over at him now, searching for clues in his profile.

“Yeah?” Henley prompts, an intrigued smile growing subtly on her lips.

He steals a glance at her out of the corner of his eyes, a snort jumping up in his throat. “Yeah,” he repeats back to her, focusing his attention back to the road. He shrugs, hoping the movement will shift some of his thoughts into place.

Where: The Voss Houeshold

When:  Wednesday April 22, 2020, early afternoon

Whom: @jaylenmaxwell

It was a pretty good deal when Remi stopped to think about it: cookies in exchange for gossip. When Remi had run into Jaylen at Walker’s Family Market, she would have continued to politely ignore him and save him the awkward pleasantries if she hadn’t heard the dozens of townspeople talking about what had happened to Josie throughout the errands she was running for her mother that day. Normally, Remi would have just assumed the old woman bit it like everyone eventually does, except the inklings and conspiracies of what had happened finally managed to pique her interest.

Remi had just managed to preheat the oven when she heard a knock at the front door. She glanced over her shoulder across the open concept front of the house to see a blurred figure in the tall, thin frosted glass pane next to the front door. She tossed the recipe card she’d been using back onto the counter and went to open the door for Jaylen.  She opened the door with both hands, leaning around it to slowly turn lift her head and eyes to Jaylen’s croaking out a throaty, monotone, “Hello” reminiscent of Riff Raff in Rocky Horror Picture Show before she moved over to allow Jaylen to enter the house.

“We’re all set up in the kitchen,” she explained, waving him to follow her past the staircase and living room into the family kitchen. Luckily, she’d managed to get the house to herself for the day. She patted the long island bar with her hand to instruct him to go ahead and settle in before she placed two glass mixing bowls in front of him. “Here we have a classic chocolate chip featuring the fanciest of vanilla from Mexico and high quality chocolate—which yes, I did steal from work. I changed the amount of flour in them a little, so they should be really thick, but I’m worried if I don’t chill the dough that the butter will melt too fast and the cookies will spread and they won’t turn out…”

She pushed that bowl aside and moved the second bowl in front of her. “And behind door number two we have… white chocolate macadamia cookies, a long suffering and underrated cookie. But my sister brought me good macadamias from her trip to Hawaii recently.” Remi looked at Jaylen’s bag, figuring he’d probably shown up prepared with more than just a story. Eager to catch up on the latest town drama she looked across the countertop at her former classmate. “Is the cookie selection to your liking, do we still have a deal?”

It doesn’t feel quite right stepping into Remi’s home. He hadn’t known her well in their high school years. Hell, no one had known her well. They knew of her. And the hollows under her eyes making her appear almost as grim and ghostly than the long, stretched faces Jaylen saw behind his eyelids come 2:00am. They knew of her silver tongue that served like a ring master’s whip, forcing lions back in order. He feels this setting is perhaps a bit too intimate for an old acquaintance. Especially one he’s barely been acquainted with in the first place.

But, if Jaylen has a kryptonite, it’s free food. Normally, enough free pizza and beer in college is enough to satiate most people, but Jaylen still works his angles how he can for whatever grub that doesn’t require him to throw down any cash. Between Mason paying him in burgers and Remi in cookies, he thinks he’s doing quite well for himself.

“Vanilla from Mexico?” he asks, stepping inside and working his shoes off. Aretha Maxwell had instilled that house rule in him so often, it was more instinct than anything else. “Is that supposed to make it more legit? Sounds like a convenient way of rippin’ somone off, man. What’s wrong with domestic vanilla?” A grin breaks out over his face, though. Wherever the vanilla’s from, he’s sure he won’t have any complaints about it.

“Fah’sho,” he assures, grabbing a chocolate chip cookie and munching on a bite with a satisfied mmm. “So, whatchu tryna look at first? I got hella stuff from the woods, but I’m still tryna work my angles on the Josie stuff.”

          “What the fuckー” he mutters, whipping around for the source of the sound. It’s like a crack, like someone’s stepping on branches, and he’s sure he heard it just now. And it keeps going. “Someone else is out there,” he hisses under his breath to Jaylen, who seems completely unfazed, and is now pointing his flashlight at the trees instead. The sound is too distinct to be missed. This is a normal occurrence, then? The woods just emitting random branch-breaking noises?

          Richard curses internally. No NVDs, no recording devices apart from his phone, nothing. It’s just him and his brain.

          Meanwhile, his ghost-hunting partner continues on talking, filling him in about kids disappearing. He’s familiar. All those missing children from Wade and its surrounding areas. The numbers are not that far off from average, hence he had not deemed them particularly noteworthy; however, Jaylen is telling him what’s been left out of police files. No one takes it seriously when kids claim to see weird things. There are plenty of reasons: they’re playing make-believe, mistakenly perceiving perfectly normal stuff, or lying to make the adults around them pay more attention. Or could be irrational fears. In his childhood home, there used to be a round, wooden piece attached on the top of the staircase for decorative purposes, and it would cast a shadow on the opposite wall that resembled a human head. Richard remembers being terrified of that shadow. He grew out of it around the age of, like, seven or eight.

          But if multiple kids, unconnected, over time, all say they saw weird things at a handful of identifiable locations, some of them then disappearing at the same spots ―- that could be a pattern worth looking into.

          “Shit. That’s creepy.” He dutifully follows Jaylen, the pair now walking along the huge circle of a clearing. “So what do they say? The kids, I mean. What are they seeing out here? The Mothman?” he adds, half-jokingly. 

Jaylen would entertain that thought: someone else is out there. But he knows a bit better by now. There’s always someone else, some-thing else. Wherever you are in Wade. Jay had given up on the idea of it being a stalker, following close behind, into the woods, into the halls of his apartment complex late at night, into the corner of his bedroom. But when he’d turned on the light, there had been no one there. Not even a shadow. Someone else is out there, but never in the ways one might expect.

Most cases around here go overlooked. Jaylen’s no expert; he doesn’t know the national averages for disappearances or murders or anything like them, so he can’t be sure Wade has any more cases than a few towns over. What he can be sure of, though, is all the similarities in them... Kids, drawn towards the water. People wandering towards the woods, hearing a voice they hadn’t heard since a loved one’s passing.

“Bro, I wish,” Jaylen says with a sigh, stepping over a particularly bulky log and keeping the light over it for Tyler with an off-handed, “watch your step.” A few more paces forward, and he continues. “But Mothman’s mostly a West Virgina thing... I ‘unno, he’s got wings. Maybe he travels.” He snickers, then shakes his head. “No, uh... From what I can tell s’mostly been... other kids. Like, whoever went towards the water or whatever will say cryptic shit about some other kid in the water telling them to come closer. There’s one story, though, about this one girl who saw the family’s dog in there... maybe a week after it passed away? Some chalk it up to just a kid not handling their grief well, but... Well, animal control gets a lot of calls out by the one lake? But when they get there, they can’t ever find nothin’.”