#fjsnjgrf

The school is too quiet. Rosewood High should be full of music, shouting, lockers clanging—but it's almost like it’s holding its breath.

Aura walks through the hallway alone, still in her blue formal dress, he said would look stunning. Her shoes are in one hand, his scarf in the other. Her makeup has smudged, and she couldn’t care. Not after losing him.

Everything smells like cleaning spray, rain, and a missing piece.

There’s a note in her pocket she keeps reading even though she already knows every word.

“Tell them I jumped. But don’t believe it.”

The emergency bell rings once. Then again. A third time.

But the fourth bell never comes.

Aura looks toward the kitchen door and whispers, “You said you’d come find me after the third song, Marcus.

“Third. Bell.

“You lied to me.”

Her knees buckle and hit the floor. Her hands tremble.

Why did she feel so guilty?

The silence only got quieter.

She curls her hands into fists and bangs them on the cold, tiled floor.

Her words cut through the silence, “Where were you when I needed you the most? Why couldn’t you have stayed?”

She tried to act tough, but the crack in her voice betrayed her.

884 words :(

A/N - I hate how short this is but here it is.

Me and Marcus find our way to detention for talking in class, and the silence and boredom finally got to us. So, what better way to pass time than to look for another case for our blog?

That’s just what we did. First the kitchen, then the classroom storeroom, then the janitors closet. That’s where we found the first trace.

“Aura. Get over here,” Marcus’s trembling voice echoed throughout the building.

So, I skipped my way over to Marcus, and as my eyes caught sight of the knife, I chuckled, “Maybe the cafeteria chicken really was alive!”

But Marcus doesn’t smile. Doesn’t breathe.

“I think this was my mums. The scratch in the handle is the same. But the blood wasn’t there before.” And it wasn’t. I went over to Marcus’s house for years, before his mum disappeared, and the blood stain along the sharp edge wasn’t there when I knew it.

Marcus’s mum was a nice person. She always invited me and my family to her house for meals, and she spent a lot of quality time with Marcus especially closer to the time that she vanished. It’s like she knew she was going to go. But no one really knows what happened.

It’s like, one minute she’s there, then the next… poof. Gone.

She used to work at the school, in the kitchen, and every Friday night, she’d stay back and make clove stew, which she’d give Marcus and I during our movie nights.

Then one night, she didn’t come home. Marcus and his dad called the police, and they ran a 6-month investigation. Nothing was found, and they were all devastated. Marcus mourned for months, and eventually he made up his mind to always remember her.

The knife was carefully wrapped in a checkered red cloth, like someone was meant to keep it from the world, to keep it safe and undiscovered. Like a secret, or story no one wanted to share.

I was the first to break the silence, “Marcus.” It was broken, almost like a whisper. My arm leaned on his. But that wasn’t important right now.

Marcus was distant for the next few days. He rarely ate, rarely showed up at school.

I had had enough. So, I trudged over to his house on a stormy night and tapped on his window. He took some time, but eventually the window clicked and slid open. But his face didn’t show up like usual, so I knew something was off.

I climbed in, with Marcus’s hand as assistance, and he just stared at me. His eyes were dark. His curls just covered his eyes, and this is the first time she’s ever seen him like this.

I reached out to touch his arm. He doesn’t move. Just sniffles. He bites his lips, like he’s lost in thought.

My hand slides up his chest, cupping his face, wiping a tear, before holding his arm. “Marcus. It’s me, Aura. Please say something.” I’m almost crying, he’s never gone like this before. Quiet, distant, gone. I’m worried

That breaks him, “I’m sorry.”

That’s all I needed. I move without thinking, right up to Marcus and give him a hug. A tight, knowing hug. “I’ll help you. We will find out what happened together. Promise.”

Marcus just hugs me back.

His chin rests on my head, “Do you trust me?” He sounds quiet. Hurt.

I hug him tighter and let go. “Why wouldn’t I?” I take his hand in mine.

Marcus looks away, holding my hand, “What- Have you ever been afraid. Afraid that you’ll hurt someone? That you might ruin something special?”

I look around, thinking of what to say, and why he’s saying this. I sigh when I spot the knife, neatly wrapped in its cloth, on his desk. I hold him by his shoulders.

“You were overthinking. Again. Marcus. We will get to the bottom of this. We have time!”

“No, we don’t Aura. What if, what if it’s too late?”

“Too late for what?” My hands grip and twist into his jacket in confusion and worry.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!” He snaps at me. I let go of him.

I wince slightly at his words. Why’s he like this? Marcus took a step closer to me, “What if we don’t find her!? What if you get hurt?” Marcus lashed out at me.

My back hits the cold wall. I can’t think. Why is he so defensive? “Marcus. You need to calm-”

“Have you ever thought of what would happen if I lost you? What would happen if we didn’t find her?”

“Marcus please-”

“You’re all I’ve got left, Aura. My dad won’t even hear me out if it’s anything to do with my mum. I can’t lose you!” He said through clenched teeth.

I don’t know what to say. I just turned around.

I need to get out. To think. Help.

Facing the window, I look back and give him a look. Then I slid the window open, the cold air rushing into Marcus’s room.

I stepped out of his room, onto the roof. No goodbye. I’d probably text him later that night. I gave him one last glare, but it felt wrong. Then I hopped down onto the soft grass and found my way home.

1.027K words.

Aura and I were best friends. But at this point, who didn’t know? We ran a blog called The Fourth Bell, where we’d document everything supernatural, from mystery spell books to vending machines that eat up your coins. It was fun. We belonged, and that’s something I haven’t felt in a long time, since my mum disappeared.

It started as a joke – What DID the fourth bell mean? After Fire, Tornado, and Lockdown?

In the blog, Aura did the writing, and her captions were to die for. One post was simple – Locker 218 is leaking. Marcus touched it. He now understands algebra and mortality. Some posts just got ten likes. Maybe twelve. We couldn’t care. If we did, this wouldn’t be US.

I was the drawing guy, or as Aura would say, ‘The Drawing King.’ She’d probably be the queen.

Sometimes I drew Aura without telling her. Whether it be she’s tying her laces or biting into a cookie she never liked but ate anyways. I never showed her those. She just saw them once when she flipped too far in my sketchbook. I pretended to not notice. She did too.

Sometimes Aura saved her blog posts in drafts instead of publishing. Little moments she wasn’t ready to share. Conversations she didn’t want anyone else to read.

I noticed. But I never asked why. I didn’t want to push anything on her.

Her mum usually hints at Aura and I, saying we’d be a cute couple. I don’t want to force Aura to do anything. Plus, our friendship is really precious. But we had rules. Unspoken ones.

Only we could make fun of each other.

Everything ghost-related had to be investigated together.

And if one of us was quiet longer than five seconds, the other had to ask what was wrong.

It worked. We never had to discuss rules. It was just a part of us, like brushing your teeth in the morning and the night.

One Tuesday, I brought Aura a scarf. She raised it like a prize, her dark green eyes sparkling, “What’s this?”

“Protection,” I said, “Against ghosts and math tests. Guaranteed.” It was true.

She wore it on her wrist every day after that. Even when it messed with her uniform. Even when people asked if it meant something.

Or I asked her why she wears it. She’d just shrug.

She’d just smile and say, “It looks nice”. But it meant something. She told me.

Even if she didn’t know what.

I did.

I just hoped she wouldn’t forget.

Over time, I started realising things that don’t usually happen in a friendship. Stares that happen longer than necessary. The look she gives me when I draw. But this isn’t friendship. It’s a bond.

Late on a quiet Tuesday night, Aura texted me, “I’m coming over.”

We didn’t need to plan for a visit. She’d just climb in through the window.

I texted her back a while later, “I’ll prepare the room,” but there was nothing to be prepared. Just myself. And maybe the fort.

Something changed within the past year.

We both knew. We both felt it. We just didn’t address it. We couldn’t.

Friendships are precious. They take years to build up but can be destroyed with nothing less than a word. A conversation. Even nothing.

Just like a domino contraption; it can take weeks to build and plan it, but then with something as simple as wrong place wrong time, or a whisper, or a breath, it will collapse. Sooner or later. And there’s no going back.

That’s like our friendship. Childhood friends don’t come easily, and most of us don’t have them. And this one is worth it.

I heard two soft knocks on my window. I slid the window open after a click, and my head popped out, and that’s where my smile of joy appeared. Her smile faded. Aura climbed in and her smile came and grew. Marcus had set up a fort. Just like the one when we were 5. The same blanket. The same chair. The same blue teddy bear that we (mainly Aura. I was cheering her on) had stitched the arm onto a million times.

I slid the window down, the breeze subsiding, with a click. I charged at her, picking her up and chucking her in the fort. I jumped in after her, “like it?”

She looked me with fake hurt on her face, her hand on her chest, “Mate, you think I, “like,” this? Man, we grew up with this fort! And…” she crawled to the mini fridge I managed to stuff in the fort (with a lot of frustration), “…you brought the fridge. Did you expect me to be going through some breakup? I love it, Marcus.”

My smile just grew. It never does that unless I’m with her, “You seemed half depressed, and you NEVER send short messages.”

“Yeah, well,” Aura opens the fridge with a great reveal, “you got the Pepsi,” she finishes the sentence simply but artistically, and I haven’t been able to tell how she’s able to do it perfectly every time.

I sigh and drop back onto the pillows. Aura lays next to me. “What happens when things change?” She asks me, her eyes full of hope.

I look into her deep green eyes, “Then I’ll protect you.” It’s true

But she doesn’t take this seriously, “I’m not a damsel in distress, knight. I mean YOU. US. What happens to us?”

Aura’s question caught me off guard, “I don’t think anything will change,” I nudge her, reassuring her, “But if anything does, I’ll always be there for US, and we will fight through it together.”

Aura wasn’t like Aura today. Her questions. They seem, out of place. The night concluded with some shared cookies and drinks. Then Aura reluctantly pushed the fact that it was getting late and there was school the next day, and we finally parted ways as she wondered into the night. I waved. She didn’t see. I smiled. I hope she knows.

I only hoped that she’d stay safe.

I hope she will be fine by herself.