"Thirteen Sad Farewells" by Stu Larsen
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Monday: October 31, 1994
10:24 PMThe air was cold. My jacket barely helped to keep out the biting wind. I shivered against the oncoming winter breeze.
My eyes wouldn't seem to focus. The world was spinning out of control. I was sinking into unconsciousness, but I wouldn't let myself. I had to stay awake. I had to find Scott.
I could just make out the flicker of the fire before me. I was on my knees, hands bound behind my back. My head throbbed where the branch had collided with my skull, and I could feel the warm, sticky liquid leaking down my ear and neck.
I'm bleeding, I thought. Ghosts don't bleed.
Am I alive? Hadn't the witch said that? My mind was reeling. I was so dizzy, I couldn't think straight. Was I concussed?
"Ready to cooperate?" a male voice before me asked, but the question wasn't directed at me. He was talking to someone beside me.
I looked over at another man with a sack over his head and arms tied behind his back like me. "Go fuck yourself," he spat.
Scott. A jolt of relief shot through me. Thank God he was alright. But he wasn't unscathed—bruises scattered across his bare arms, and I could see a splatter of blood across his white shirt. He wasn't even wearing any shoes. He had to be freezing.
"You're an idiot," the man shot back, chuckling. Then he swung his knee into the side of Scott's head.
Scott crumpled. As he released a moan, the man laughed harder. "Scott Duncan. A witch too afraid to use his power. Pathetic."
He lifted Scott by the neck, bringing him back up to his knees. He pulled the sack off his head, revealing the bloody, bruised face of an almost unrecognizable Scott.
"Stop!" I yelled. "Don't touch him!"
Scott looked up at me. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and the other was bloodshot. He had a gash through his bottom lip, and his jaw was completely purple on one side. He rasped out, "Sam?"
"Shut up," the witch spat at me, "or I'll make sure you wind up a real ghost."
"I'm not afraid of you," I lied. I just needed to get his attention away from Scott. If he kept beating Scott like this, he'd kill him.
He released Scott and stepped toward me. He lifted his arm as if to backhand me, but before he could take the swing another witch spoke up.
"Stop," she said with enough power that it affected me as well and I stopped breathing. "You'll kill them. We need them alive for the sacrifice."
He made an irritated sound as he walked back toward the fire. The female with approached me, arms folded.
"Samantha Jackson," she said with so much power, it made me nauseous. "Sleep."
And suddenly the world faded away.
Sam.
I could hear voices. They were faint and didn't make sense. I tried to catch as much as I could and make sense of it all, but I was too far gone.
Sam.
I felt like I was trapped at the bottom of a well. The darkness was consuming. It threatened to swallow me forever.
Wake up, Sam.
My will twisted and bent to break free of the witch's power and help me find my way back to the light. I was so close.

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Ghost In the Graveyard | COMPLETED
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