—Several bodies found, believed to be victims of animal attacks. Authorities are urging residents to stay indoors after disturbing reports of half-eaten remains discovered near the outskirts of town…
The static buzz fills the room, and I watch in horror as a close-up of a mangled body flashes on the screen. My muscles tense. Outside, the wind picks up, rattling the windows like a warning.
—In response to growing concerns, city officials are considering implementing a curfew for all residents, but starting tomorrow, only a mandatory curfew for minors will be enforced. All minors must be in their residences by 10 p.m., and violators will face penalties. This comes after a rise in alarming incidents in surrounding areas…
The words sink in, a chill creeping down my spine. If they are implementing a curfew, the authorities must be getting desperate. I can hear the faint crackling of the broadcast still playing in the background, but my mind is stuck on the same horrifying question: What really happened out there?
My dad lets out a low whistle, clearly rattled. “A curfew? That’s serious.” I nod, but my thoughts are racing. What if something worse happens?
“Alright. When is your date?” He grabs the plates as he walks towards the sink.
“Eww, don’t say that,” I cringe internally.
“WhatamI supposed to say then?” My dad laughs, getting busy cleaning up.
“I don’t know, but not that, and it’s tomorrow night.” I start picking up the dishes from the table.
“Okay, you’ll check in at 8:30. I want boots through that door no later than 9:30.”
“Overprotective much? You do realize I’m not a minor anymore, right?” I mumble, the words sharper than I intended.
“Am I clear?” His voice cuts through the air, leaving no place for argument.
“Crystal,”I mutter back, not bothering to look at him as I leave the kitchen, once the porcelain hits the sink.
“Love you too, Pickle,” he calls back, trying to keep things light. But the weight is pressing down on me as I take the stairs up to my room.
I want to believe I imagined that phone call.
I want to believe that the man downstairs, the one who loves me and always protects me, isn't the same one I overheard earlier. I can only hope that my father won’t become someone who shatters my trust.
The next day,I’m trapped inside my own head. Every thought loops, every worry tightens its grip. To make matters worse, myschedule is packed with classes where it takes only seconds for boredom to sink its teeth into me.
As the teacher’s voice drones on, my focus slips, and words blur. My mind drifts, far from the lesson, far from the present. My fingers fidget with the edge of my sleeve, tracing invisible shapes across the fabric in a quiet, desperate attempt to ground myself.
Kvirr.
The word floats up again, unshakable. Over the years, I’ve searched it up more times than I care to admit. I typed it into every search engine, on every device, at every stop along the way.
Nothing.
No entries, no records, no whispers of urban legend tucked away in some obscure forum.
But I never stopped.
Every year, I searched again. Technology evolves; maybe one day something will appear. Whenever we moved, which was often, I made it a point to check every library I could find. Big cities, small towns, I dug through public catalogues, university archives, dusty shelves in old bookstores.
Still nothing.
No hint ofKvirr.
Except once.
I got close, so close it still haunts me. I found something buried in a forum’s local lore section that mentioned a witch coven in New York City. It said they practicedKvirr, and for the first time, I felt that jolt of recognition, not just curiosity, but something primal.
Only I was fifteen then, living with Aunt Ruby while Dad was on the road working. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight, convinced it was her job to give me some semblance of stability, after all the years Dad pulled me from place to place. And she wasn’t wrong. Hehaddragged me all over the country. Still, bythe time I was finally old enough, finally free to go on my own terms, the information wasn’t relevant anymore.
It had disappeared, as if it had never existed.
