The bright lights of the fireworks exploding overhead light the path in front of me. I slowly walk away from the sounds of the crowds cheering towards a darkened woods. Is this where my story ends? I have no idea what I will do once I reach that place in this trail where I’ll be out of sight and out of earshot of anyone, not that anyone could hear me over the fireworks and celebration or notice me with all of the celebrating, but my feet keep moving me forward.

Where did this begin but with a dare and a question. We’ve heard the tales and we’ve seen the images of people missing but it’s not like we knew any of them. They were strangers on the news, news that became background noise as we sat around thankful for the end of another day, until it was one of us.

 

This story will neither begin well or end well for any of us. This is one of those dark places imagined, found.

 

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