Page 5 of The Knucklebone Brothers

The roar of the fire. It was the only thing that made sense anymore. The heat blistered my face, and I just stood there and took it. Let it burn me clean.

I remembered the way the stained-glass windows shattered in a rain of black glass, the way the wood cracked and groaned as it surrendered to the flames. I remembered the look on Deputy Miller's face when I lunged at him, the shock in his eyes when I screamed.

I took a long swallow of my beer, the taste of it grounding me in the present. I could feel the eyes on me again, the same heavy, watchful presence from the haunted house. I scanned the shadows at the edge of the clearing, my heart starting to thump a little faster. I couldn't see anything, but I knew something was there.

I looked back at Lacey and Cody, now wrapped up in each other's arms, lost in their own little world of cheap beer and fleeting happiness. They were so normal, so predictable. They were everything I wasn't.

And I wouldn't have it any other way. I was here, in the dark, with the fire and the memories and the monsters. And I was right where I belonged.

The bonfire roared, a wild, hungry thing in the middle of the clearing, throwing long shadows across the scene. Random kids from town, most of them drunk, were stumbling around in half-assed Halloween costumes—a girl in a cat-ear headband, a guy with a cheap vampire cape flapping over his Letterman jacket. A few wore those flimsy plastic masks, the kind that made their voices sound muffled and inhuman, their eyeholes fogged with breath.

Above us, the night sky was a vast, black blanket pricked with a billion sharp, cold stars, and the chirp of crickets was a constant, rhythmic pulse in the dark.

Then Lacey was running up to me, her face flushed and her eyes bright with a mix of alcohol and lust. "Rory! Hey! I'm gonna go with him for a little while, do you mind?" she asked, her words tumblin’ out in a rush. "I can meet you back home or here, whichever's best."

I looked from her hopeful face to Cody, who was leaning against his truck, watching us with a dumb, expectant grin. "Go on," I said, taking another swig of my beer. "Y'all are hornier than a two-peckered billy goat. At least someone's gettin' some tonight."

Lacey giggled, swatting my arm. "Oh, hush. You could too, you know," she said, her eyes scannin’ the crowd. "There's some cute guys... or girls, whichever one you're in the mood for tonight, ‘round here."

I snorted, shaking my head. "No thanks. They're all boring. And over half of 'em are too scared to even approach me." I gestured vaguely with my beer bottle. "Go on. Get outta here. I'll meet you back home."

"Are you sure? I don't wanna leave you here alone," she said, her brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm fine, Lace. Go have your fun," I said, shooing her away with a wave of my hand. "I'll see you at home."

She gave me a quick hug, her perfume a cloying mix of vanilla and desperation, before running back to Cody. He wrapped his arm around her, and they disappeared into the darkness, their laughter fading into the night.

The fire was starting to die down, the crowd thinning as couples paired off and groups stumbled towards their trucks. I was about to leave, but a pressure started to build in my bladder. Great. I wasn't about to give any of these idiots a free show, squatting behind a pickup truck like some stray dog.

I pushed myself off the log and started walking away from the clearing, the sounds of the party, the bad music, the drunken laughter growing with each step I took into the woods. The trees here were ancient, their branches thick and heavy, twisting together to form a dense canopy that blocked out the moonlight. The air grew colder, smelling of earth and decay. This was the real Appalachia, the old, dark heart of the mountains that didn't give a damn about our bonfires or our hormones.

My grandma used to say that the woods here were full of haints and old spirits, that you had to be careful where you stepped, 'cause you might just wander into a place you weren't meant to leave.

I walked deeper, the crunch of leaves under my shoes the only sound. I found a spot behind a massive, moss-covered oak tree, its roots like gnarled claws gripping the earth. I did my business, the sound of my piss hitting the ground a sharp, hissing counterpoint to the silence of the woods. As I was pulling up my jeans, I heard it.

A muffled sound.

It was faint, almost swallowed by the night. It wasn't an animal. It wasn't the wind. It was… a voice? Or maybe music? It was hard to tell, distorted and distant, like it was coming from somewhere deep in the woods.

I froze, my hand hovering over the button of my jeans. I held my breath, straining to hear it again. Nothing. Just the crickets. The silence that followed was heavier, more menacing than the sound itself.

"Nope," I muttered to myself, my heart starting to thump a little faster. "I am not doing this tonight."

I turned and started to make my way back to the clearing. It was time to go the fuck home.

I hadn't made it ten steps before a figure detached itself from the shadows of a thick pine tree, blocking my path back to the clearin’. He was tall and lean; this was the same son of a bitch from the nursery.

The creepy smilin’ clown mask he wore seemed to suck in all the faint moonlight, the painted grin wide and fixed in the dark.

I stopped dead, my heart giving a hard thump. "Alright, very funny," I said, my voice tight with annoyance. "The party's that way, genius. You're a little lost."

He didn't move. He just tilted his head, the mask's blank eyes starin’ at me. Then, he spoke. His voice was low, melodic hum, and a jolt shot through me.

"She floated down to the miller's dam," he began, taking one slow, deliberate step towards me. His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it cut through the night air like a shard of glass.

"Fuck off," I snapped, taking a step back. My hand instinctively went to the keys in my pocket, my fingers wrapping around the sharp metal of my truck key. "I'm not in the mood for your creepy-ass ghost stories."

He didn't stop. He just kept coming.