Passing by, Kyki vaguely remembered the school ingrained in memory, though the name eluded them. The names of people and pals blended together into a mishmash of memory and reality, so that was beyond them as well. From inside emanated reverberating waves of some strange activity that could be felt even from outside. It drew inwards, calling…

The place exuded some decrepit aura, inspiring a general sense of malaise and decay about the whole building. The front doors were left open, revealing a red glow reminiscent of some furnace or kiln, fired up and ready to go. Unexpectedly, the light felt quite inviting, nostalgic and familiar. Their legs move on their own, bringing them closer and closer to this place of education. The dull windows and multi-story exterior loomed over them imposingly, as Kyki reached a hand out to pull the door open.

As their foot crossed the threshold, and the sound of steps sank deeper and deeper into the dark interior, the door silently, and slowly, swung shut with a click. Locked fast.

The lights here were dim from disuse, or non-existent, shattered and broken from outside wear and tear. Some lockers were open, papers scattered on the floor. Notebooks, textbooks, personal effects from people unknown and long gone. Mold and rot creeped across the tile floor and up into the foam ceiling. The rooms were desolate, chairs and tables overturned and the contents spilling everywhere.

Bending down, Kyki picked up what looked to be a diary, opening it and flipping through its pages. Words and images flicked by at a rapid pace, detailing a familiar story…

First, there was a house. There were many houses in the same relative shape or height, with matching proportions in suburbs all across ……………. But this one was unique in its own way. So there sat …………, swinging back and forth on the porch swing…

Crude pencil illustrations, scribbled in the margins, depicted scenery they remembered, only intermittently and in small bursts. It tickled at the edge of the mind, caressing thoughts and prayers and yay or naysayers, words, feelings, breathing and seeing the world as what it once was. Remembering… Kyki reached out a little bit in body but mostly in mind, towards the brightest of bright lights.

THUMP.

You hear it. You are standing there, clutching that journal between your fingers, feeling the not-quite-smooth college ruled paper rub against your hands, trembling because it’s so cold.

You are freezing.

THUMP.

Heavy footsteps down the hall.

THUMP.

You hold your breath. The foot, it falls.

THUMP.

Frantic, you turn to your left, your right, body pressed against the wall, searching for reprieve, escape. The desks are too weak, too small, too dark. The cabinets, too open, too big, handle falling off. Through the haze you see it, the answer, and in a moment you’re gone.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Steady. Steady. Time be frozen, air be still, frost and cold and icy chills. The figure now is just outside the door. It creaks open and THE THING is here. Its form is unknowable. It does not breathe. All you can hear is the thumping of heavy footfalls. It is close now. Can you feel it? Its body is nearly brushing your skin. It is the one caressing your mind.

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Feel it. Embrace it. Accept it. Give up.

You shrink into yourself and disappear, over and over and further and further.

It crushes a desk. The splintering is so noisy. But you’re so sluggish now, so tired, so sleepy. Your eyes are barely open as it gets closer, then closer. The supply closet… so obvious. Does it see you? Can it hear you?

Its loving arms(?) reach out to you. It surrounds you from all sides, and it is SUFFOCATING. The pressure alone restricts your lungs, and the strength begins to leave your body.

You despair.

Its REAL arm emerges, hand hovering in the air, lowering down to the closet door. Death’s fingers wrap around your neck. Your chest feels like it's about to explode. You don’t want to die yet. Squeeze your eyes shut. Shrivel into yourself and brace, brace, BRACE-

SNAP.

The door handle snaps in twain, rusted and worn by age and neglect. The thing lets go, and the metal falls to the ground, hitting the ground in multiple pieces. Suddenly you can see again, and hear again, as the footfalls begin again, growing quieter and quieter. But you wait there. Stony stillness in that little closet corner, heart beating out of your torso. One minute. Two. Three.

Kyki opened the door very, very slowly. Every audible snap, crack, or creak was a spike of pain through the skull. Creeping towards the classroom door, peeking out into the hallway again. There is no one. With slow and measured steps, Kyki brushed up against the exit, both hands on the bar. But it won’t BUDGE. Chains keep it closed, and any kind of struggle would alert the thing. Damn school exits.

Nowhere to go but deeper into the school. And it is dark. Only the sunbeams of summer sunset streamed through windows, illuminating the places where so many friends once gathered. But when they looked outside, there was nothing but white. No ground, no sky. No escape to be had. Deeper into the school, blood begins to stain the walls. There are no bodies.

Up the stairs, a chalky trail. It lines the floor, in images reminiscent of childrens’ hopscotch and four square. Up, up! The images spoke to them. Keep going up, they said, you are getting closer. It is just a little further, keep walking, oh no. Turn back, it comes, the ice.

“The ice?” they questioned, eyes on the floor. Chalk could speak? Chalk could warn?

THUMP.

And Kyki skittered away into a sideroom. As it passed by they could not help but feel helpless, hopeless at its silent wrath. It is so hard. Better to curl up into a ball and die here than face the thing.

Stupid, stupid. Keep going! Get up. Walk. Running! Go now!

Kyki could have been sitting there for hours, until they finally got up and creeped out the sideroom into the hallway again. Chalk could speak and chalk could warn, chalk is very good at scorn.

Soon, they could the thrum. It felt strange to them, so foreign yet so familiar. It was that happy little feeling that kept the dark clouds at bay. It was addicting, overpowering… up the stairs now, more steps towards heaven. Pushing on, never resting. Hesitating to touch the rusted railings, contemplating their moral failings. Approaching the roof, they began to feel so buoyant, freed from sadness, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, to be alone without troubles, light as a feather! The door to the roof flew open, Kyki feeling on top of the world. But the voices… the chalk grew quiet here. Nothing but a line curving, waving towards The Orb. It floated over the ground, over where the chalky line finally terminated. It’s hum was omnipresent, influence undeniable. It attracted the eye, making it hard to turn away.

And when Kyki grasped the thing, the source of the school’s glow…

THUMP.

Behind you.

THUMP. THUMP.

It was mad. Very mad. Kyki did not, could not look at it. Was it angry at the theft of The Orb? They opened their palm to offer it back, but to their surprise: empty.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

It sought to tear them apart, limb from limb, groaning and mumbling. Despair gripped their bones and crushed their mind at its approach, but strangely Kyki felt fuller, happier. In a moment of uncharacteristic bravery, they reached out a palm to the thing. It did not falter. And it raised its arm, about to strike, when the glow exploded.

It flooded forth from Kyki’s hands in a sudden rush, pelting the being of despair with legions of orbs, all glowing bright holding memories of the past. Happy summer days, the freshness of the morning air, spring dew on a leaf, playing games together, living, breathing, thriving. And it was all so much, all at once, and then- nothing.

Kyki stood there, arms outstretched, eyes shut, for a few seconds, waiting for death. But they opened their eyes to happy thoughts, dancing across their arms and legs, a crown of sentimentality to rest upon their unkempt hair. The thing is gone now. They knew this intimately. All that was left was a small, black orb, among a pile of ash and dust. They hesitated to pick it up, but could not stop themselves in the end. It was just something that had to be done. To leave without this marble sized blackened ball would be to forfeit something important.

(Brrring, brrring, brrring)

The phone goes off, and Kyki blinks. They are standing outside the school exit, holding… nothing. Hands empty. They reach into their pocket and pull out the phone.

“Hello? Kyki? It’s dark outside now, and Mom wants you to come home.”

It was dark now. Night time, actually. Looking back, the old school stood proud, still crumbling and overgrown. The doors hung open, and the school flag tattered beyond repair. But lining the roof, in every window, their friends, schoolmates, pals of all kinds stood, watching them. They wave to the crowd, and the crowd waves back.

Kyki is waving at an empty schoolhouse. The memories of the past drift across their skin, a little darker than they remembered. They hung up, and strolled away, a glowing golden line drawing itself across the sky. Instinctively, they felt another of their memories resting someplace else, and they followed, disappearing into the nighttime city, full of bright lights, flashing colors, neon billboards. And Kyki is gone, tailed only by an echo of the thing, trailing in their wake.