I woke suddenly, dazed and stuck with a headache that pounded and echoed through my head. The house was silent, the only sound was the silent ticking of the clock approaching 1 AM. It was no longer Halloween, not anymore. It took a moment for me to open my eyes, to take in where I was, in the dark shadows. I felt something upon my shoulder and looked to the side of me, Jennifer’s head on his shoulder, eyes closed, and hair tousled, she snored softly like the trill of wind, barely loud enough to hear over the stern ticking of the clock. I nudged her off my shoulder and got up as silently as possible, hearing her slump over and rest her head on the couch cushions. I smiled. It was late, the TV off, leaving everything obscured in a thick blanket of darkness. I said my silent farewells and searched for my phone in the dark, my hands stumbled over trash until he felt the coolness of the glass upon his fingertips. I quietly found and left through the back door making sure my footsteps were silent. I escaped into the pale moonlit night— morning?
  My car was easy to spot in the dark, silver and perched on the edge of Willow Street, a short walk from Jennifer’s house. I waded through the dewy grass, and strolled over the sidewalk, embracing the cool yet humid night. I let the wind fill me with serenity as I fall in a haze to the rhythmic pattern of my soft footsteps and the whistle of the cool night. It was nothing less of a submissive lullaby. Only then, to the soft trill of wind did I realize how tired I was, how lethargic, and how slow I moved. I took my time getting to my car, struggling to pull my keys out of my full pockets, and unlocking my car with a click. I slid into the driver’s seat, taking a Advil from the glove compartment, and swallowing it, I felt it slide down my throat and grimaced. I hated swallowing pills. I turned the key to my car, it erupted and then started a rhythm as the engine was chugging, warming up and fighting the autumn air. I pulled my seatbelt over me and pulled out, taking a series of roads to Cliff’s Edge. The night was foggy, yet the rocky edge that shadowed a stony beach was still faintly visible, and the sound of the waves was easily heard, crashing and grasping the rocks, and painting the sands. It was a gentle song, and as many roads of Angler Island were quiet at this hour, it was easy to hear.
  My headache faded ever so slightly, thanks to the Advil and the song of the sea and for a moment I felt at peace in the chaos of life, but that only lasted a moment. A flash, a blur leaped in front of my headlights, it was almost too late I realized it was a deer. I tried to swerve out of the way, I felt my seatbelt cling to me, my tires skid with an ear-piecing sound. I clung to the wheel as I skidded to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. I was now heavily breathing, the deer galloped into the forest not even giving me a look my way. I took a moment, to catch my breath, to slow down my breathing and then I tapped on the gas pedal and was met with a stutter, I got out of my car, my car wedged in mud at the edge of the road, tires engulfed in dirt. I sighed. At least the deer was okay. I took a moment to look around, and in the forest and brush saw the light of a fire carving its way through the trees and leaves.
  It was a small town on a small island, I knew everyone on the island, I had too. There wasn’t anywhere to go that wasn’t by ferry, everyone knew each other, nothing interesting happened. the only time new faces came was during the on-seasons, summer and spring, when it was warm, and tourists explored the rocky beaches and fished. But it was the off-season and I hoped whoever lay behind the brush could help me, hopefully it was someone I knew. Mrs. Murry often went camping. She had plenty of spirit left in her. I pushed through the forest, and as much as I wanted to sigh, and groan from my tiredness, and how inconvenient this was for me, I couldn’t help but be enchanted by the oranges and yellows of the leaves and the way they caught the moonlight, it helped to slow down my heavy breathing. I clenched my arms, and felt my body grow tense as a gust of wind caught me off-guard. The fire grew closer and closer, and brighter between the trees. I reached a small clearing, a fire burned earnestly but there was no one there, just flames, just embers. I turned back after standing by the fire for a moment, letting the heat wash over me like warm ocean waves. I felt for my phone in my pocket and pulled it out, No Service. Crap. My parents are going to be furious. I didn’t want to leave the fire, its warmth, but it left me first, another gust of wind put it out, and all that was left were a few embers and smoke, pale grey moonlit smoke. It was now dark, pitch dark, and I didn’t know where I was. I turned the flashlight on my phone, it casted long menacing shadows, that shifted with every move of the flashlight. In the dark I felt unsettled, I felt vulnerable. I turned around and wandered back, but it didn’t seem the same path I took, even with the absence of the fire’s light, it was a different scene. Even in the dark, I knew I was going the wrong way, I was lost. But I continued to wander, glancing at my phone for a bar of service every few steps. Nothing.

  After a glance from my phone I stopped dead in my tracks, I shook immensely. there was stream, still, silent, but its water was colored red and its river stones had taken a new shade. And bobbing in the water was the lifeless body of Merle Douglas, stabbed multiple times, sporadically, incoherently. I felt my phone slip from my hands, the coolness leave my fingers, and fall to the ground, the flashlight now shining through the trees. The cold became the least of my worries as I stood as still as the waters he was laying in.



  My heart pounded in my chest, a rhythm that grew uneven, then quieter until I didn’t feel mine. The pain was now gone, but it wasn’t as I expected. There was no bright light, no fire, no nothing. I was here, in the darkened forest, with Jonah Abrahams standing over me, frozen, still. For such a calm person he did very poorly under pressure, always had. I didn’t feel pain, not sorrow, not anguish and I felt alive, but not alive, like I was trapped in between, stuck between two worlds, but I wasn’t frightened. I wasn’t scared. Even the water around me felt more distant, like it didn’t touch my skin, but I knew it was there. I stood up or felt like I did, but didn't make a splash. The water was still, it didn’t make a sound. I tried to say something, I tried to speak, it was silent, dead silent. It scared me, but I didn’t feel scared, and that angered me, but I couldn’t feel anything, I tried, but I felt nothing. Any inch of emotion disappeared in a instance. I wanted to hate it but I couldn’t. It was like any fire of passion or anguish was extinguished. It didn’t feel neither good nor bad, here nor there. I was just there. I looked down, I didn’t have legs, I didn’t have anything, all I was was a floating consciousness, a invisible pair of eyes.
   I walked— er, floated towards Jonah who was visibly contemplating what to do, I went right through him, he felt nothing but air. I wasn’t sure what this was. It didn’t feel like Hell, but it wasn’t Heaven. the absence of joy, the absence of pain. The absence of everything. As I walked through him, I heard the ring of his phone, echoing. I turned around, seeing my dead body for the first time. I tried so hard in that moment to grieve, not for the loss of my life, not the pain i felt but how little I did with it. How cruelly it ended. I walked away from Jonah, coming across two dead, bleeding crows that had painted the grass. All I could think was poor crows.



  He was right. It was traumatic. Every time I tried to sleep, I dreamt, lucid, vivid, dreams. My parents were— they were I don’t know, a mix of emotions, angry, scared, happy I was alive. They left me alone to my thoughts. They thought that was what was best for me. They were wrong. I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want to remember seeing him like that, so helpless.
Finally, I grew too tired, and sleep overcame my emotions, I slept.

  I woke up suddenly, Saturday, and for a second I nearly forgot what happened. I looked at my phone, Jennifer called me, 15 times. I wanted to answer, to tell her I was okay, but I wasn’t, and I needed a moment.



  I walked down Flagler Pier Monday. The air was cool and crisp, fresh, hinted with salt. I walked down the pier my footsteps uneven as I stumbled, I hadn’t slept much. I was alone on the pier, it was foggy, the wind cold and wet. I had taken the Sheriff’s advice, I took the day off but my mom encouraged me to get out, I know she’s concerned about me. I can’t blame her. I stopped and hung on the railing, overlooking the rocky beach obscured in fog. Why could someone so kind, so pure, and caring be taken from the world? I didn’t know, just as I didn’t know why the skies grew grey and foggy around autumn and winter, and I didn’t know why the sand pipers migrated to each end of the beach each month. That’s just things were. My phone buzzed. It was Emily McCarthy, I looked at the text she sent me

  Hey how are you?

Fine.

I’m having a party tonight, you’re welcome to come, 6:30, my place.

Sure. I’ll be there.

  Did I want to go? No. But I knew my mom would be less concerned if I acted normal. I wanted to feel normal. I called my mom and spent the rest of the day at the pier until 6:00. I called a Uber.


  Emily was popular. As I stood in front of her house I began to realize why she had her nice things. Her house was large, sandy marble and large glass windows. I knocked on the door. She answered and gave a soft sympathetic smile. She led me through her house, her nice living room, and through a glass door to her pool, and all eyes were on me, for a moment at least. I wondered if anything would ever be the same. I sat on the edge of a pool chair, pulling out my phone ignoring the laughter and the splashing of water. I regretted coming. Emily went off, other people needed her. Then a girl approached me, her name was— Mallory, I never learned her last name. I remember seeing her talk to Merle before he— left us. Her voice was shaky,

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

“Um. Sure?”

“In private?”

I nodded, confused, and she pulled me over to a corner that no one was in and said,

“I killed Merle Douglas.”

I was frozen, I stood still. I felt my eyes grow big, and I felt instantly unsafe,

“You killed Merle? No, you couldn’t have.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears, “But I did— I murdered him.” Her voice was stiff, almost in disbelief. I didn’t feel angry, I felt scared. Confused. I wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. Then, out of nowhere, like the screams of Merle came through the birds themselves, crows calls echoed through the evening, almost sounding sorrowful, in anguish. I swear I was going insane.


Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, tell me, and I'll post the full version later. I had to cut it down for the contest so sadly I took a lot of Merle's character development away and the info about the crows which Jonah hears in the last chapter. The original chapter four and six talked more about Merle, how he was feeling, adapting to this new life, and two crows that followed him that Mallory killed (out of anger in the forest). They were his only companions in this "neither here nor there" world.