WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE SCENES OF BLOOD AND GORE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 10 YEARS OF AGE. OR IF YOU DON'T LIKE HORROR. FIRST TO READ: @clueless_game (so follow them pls) Allan lay sprawled out on the old wooden picnic table, feeling the tiny snowflakes tickle his face. He groaned and threw a snowball into the air. “Damian,” he said, the snowball falling on his jacket, “this is boring.” He glanced over at his friend, who sat there, stuck in his phone, listening to music. “Hey!” he yelled, making Damian drop his phone into the snow. “Yeah?” he said, raising his eyebrows. Allan sat up and jumped off the table. “I said this is boring.” Damian nodded. “Yep. So boring. . .” Damian bent over to pick up his phone. Allan growled, tossing his head back. “Let’s do something fun, instead of just sitting here, y’know, doing nothing.” Damian glanced up. “Like what?” Allan closed his eyes and thought. “I don’t know. Just something other than this.” Damian nodded once more, setting his phone down on the table. “Yeah. . .” Allan suddenly opened his eyes, turning towards Damian. “Oh! I got it!” Damian’s eyes widened at his sudden enthusiasm. “Yeah?” Allan lowered his voice, almost to a sinister tone. “Let’s visit Freddy’s.” Damian’s jaw dropped open. “What? NO! You’re crazy!” Allan smiled and laughed nervously, contorting himself in an uncomfortable position. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. But, What’s really going to hurt us?” Damian shook his head in disbelief, wiping his nose on his jacket sleeve. “You’re really going to do something SO stupid, that I can’t even explain how stupid it is?!” Allan gazed up towards the giant, dead oak tree that loomed over them. The branches creaked and groaned under the weight of the falling snow. “. . . Any better ideas? Because, if you have any better ideas, I’m down for it.” Damian blinked, not sure about what to say. He peered up into the sky, hoping there was an idea amidst the falling snow. He gave up after a while. “No . . .'' Allan stood up and zipped up his jacket, feeling the warmth of his body being contained. “Well, call the others. We’ll be meeting here at midnight, since it’s not that far away from here.” Damian closed his eyes and slumped over. “. . .Okay.” Allan walked away from the table, then slipped and fell on a patch of ice. “UMPH!” Allan landed flat on his back, feeling the ice patch crack under his weight. “You okay?” Damian asked, standing up quickly. Allan waved him off, getting on his hands and knees. “Yep.” he groaned. “Just this weather doesn’t suit me.” He stood up,regaining his footing. He looked back up at Damian, who was sitting back down on his phone, oblivious to the world once more. Allan sighed, then turned to walk back home. Allan reached his house about twenty minutes after eight, and the snow hadn’t let up. He knocked on the door. No answer. He raised an eyebrow, then knocked once more. No answer. Allan frowned and rolled his eyes. “Great,” he mumbled. He had hoped his parents weren't already asleep. He knew his brother was out late for a party tonight, so he wouldn’t answer the door. So, Allan would have to enter through his bedroom window. He made his way around the house, opening the gates cautiously. One of the gates creaked, and he stopped, listening. He heard movement in the house. Allan quickly shut the gate, then made his way behind a snow-covered bush. He peered out into the yard. He saw the back door fling open, and his father ran out into the yard, armed with his pistol. “Who’s there?” He yelled into the crisp air. Allan held his breath, not making a sound. He turned around carefully, peeking through the bush. His dad stalked back and forth, the deck creaking under the weight. Ten minutes had passed, and his dad was satisfied. He sighed, and eyed his surroundings once more. “Must’ve been a raccoon.” he mumbled. He looked down at the deck and frowned. “I really should clean this off. . .” His dad made his way back into the house. Allan sighed a breath of relief. He stood up, wiped his nose, and walked very carefully to his window, trying not to make any more noise. He opened his window, took his jacket off, shook off the snow, and threw it in the house. He carefully hoisted himself over the window’s ledge, and dropped into his room. “Never doing that again. . .” he murmured. He closed the window, and latched it shut. “Good thinking, past me.” He said triumphantly. Allan had figured his parents would be in bed by nine, but he didn’t know they would be in bed by eight-twenty. His brother was out for a party. Obviously, he wouldn’t be back for some time. So, he decided to leave his window unlatched, just in case.
The room was dark. Allan made his way blindly through his room. He reached his door, where the light switch was. He flicked on the light, and the room lit up. Allan turned around, satisfied. He took his shirt off, which was soaked with melted snow. “Ugh.” He tossed it aside, into the mound of dirty clothes that sat beside his bed. He wrinkled his nose, turning towards his bathroom. “Really should wash those soon . . “ He turned the water on; full hot and full cold. He stepped in, feeling the water hit him. It was warm, but not too warm. About thirty minutes later, he walked out, in his pajamas, ready for bed. He groaned as he hit his pillow. “What a day.” he said aloud. He laid there, his eyes drifting shut. Just before he fell asleep, his phone rang loudly. He jolted up and grabbed it. Damian. He answered the call. “Yeah?” he said, rushing to the bathroom, which was more soundproof than his bedroom. “What is it?” Damian sniffled and coughed. “Are you getting on tonight?” Allan sighed and hung his head down. “No. . . I'm tired, man. I gotta go to sleep. I gotta get ready for tonight.” Silence was heard from the other end of the phone. “. . . You are coming, right?” Damian coughed once more. “Yeah. Jeremy, Armi, and Claire are going, as well. I think Wade is coming, too. I’m not really sure.” Allan nodded. “Okay. Make sure they pack properly. Warm jacket-” “I know,” Damian interrupted. “I know. I already told them.” Damian sneezed. “Okay. Good. I’ll see you guys tonight.” He hung up the phone and he sighed. Two and a half hours later . . . Allan opened his eyes, realizing he had left his room light on. Great. He stood up, and ruffled his hair. He looked at his watch. Eleven-thirty. Perfect. Allan made his way towards his desk, where he had all his supplies packed up. “Let’s see. . .” Inside a backpack, there was the following: Flashlight, hammer, medical wrap, rubbing alcohol, bandaids, leftover fries and burger from the day before, and a blacklight. Allan wrinkled his nose at the fries and burger. He reached in, ready to toss it out, then stopped. “Never know when you’re gonna get hungry.” He removed his hand, then zipped up the backpack. He walked towards his closet and grabbed a small, but thick, and fluffy jacket. He zipped it up, and then grabbed his cap and put on some gloves. He smiled as he looked down at himself. I’m ready.” He walked to pick up the back, then froze. He growled, taking his cap, gloves, and jacket back off. “Guess I should change clothes. . .” He jumped on his bicycle and started down the road. The snow had now reached a third of the way to the garage door, so he had to climb through the window again. He rode through the cold of the night, and the wind was stale, but fresh. He had thought that the road would be filled with cars, but since the road was completely covered in snow and ice, no car lights lit up the road. Allan cursed himself. He should’ve attached his light to the front of the bicycle. He ventured down the road a little more, until his bike sank into the snow. The front wheel sunk into the snow, flipping the bike forwards. “Woah!” Allan flipped over the bike, landing on his feet. He blinked in amazement. “Well, that was cool.” He turned, picked his bike back up, and continued down the road. Allan made it to the park, three falls into the snow later. He reached the dead oak tree, and climbed off the bike. “Guess I’ll hang out here for a while.” He climbed the tree and sat on a thick branch. About five minutes later, Damian rode up on his bike. He jumped off noticing Allan’s bike. “Where are you at?” he asked, searching around the area. “Right here.” Allan said, jumping off the branch he was on. He landed with a loud thud. He looked at Damian, who was staring at him in surprise.“Where’s the others?” he asked, rubbing his cheeks with his gloves. Damian leaned against his bicycle. “Coming. Claire said she’d be here in-” Just then, another bike pulled up. “Couldn’t have picked a better meeting point, could you?” Claire said, taking her helmet off. Allan sniffled and looked away quickly. “Yep. This was the best place.” Damian eyed Allan suspiciously. “What are you doing?” he questioned, with a mocking grin on his face. Allan walked away, blushing. “Nothing.” Allan went back towards the tree, when another bike zoomed by. “Whoa!” Allan stopped just in time for the bike to just roll over his big toe. Jeremy couldn't control his bike. He had hit a patch of ice. He jumped off the bike, right before the bike slammed into the oak tree. Jeremy stood up, wiping the snow from his face.
