Supernatural

Corpse Eater

Prologue:

Taking the long way to school had become a consistent habit this month. Every morning was the same routine: wake up late, take a five minute shower, and run out the house with a half-eaten piece of toast in my hand. But what my parents didn’t know was that I was a cold-blood liar, and not only that, but an outcast by my own choice. I could imagine Mother washing the dishes and Father reading the sports section of the newspaper whilst they pondered about me, referring to me as their little princess. It was disgusting and it made me wonder if they wished I was a blond cheerleader instead of a redhead elite member of the debate team. While they sat at home thinking that I was riding that yellow school bus with all those shallow kids, I was jumping gates and taking a road through a filthy marsh.

It was a shortcut, but not a shortcut to school.

After the Marsh was an abandoned road with demolished streets and trees that looked eerie in the morning time. The place didn’t have a name so I referred to it as ‘Peculiar Amazement Avenue.’ It was like my own little world where I was the ruler and all of my citizens dead but obedient. Such thoughts always sent shivers up my spine, but not ones that frightened me. It was indescribable; yet I was sure it wasn’t fear.

Although it was a nice way for me to forget about reality, I didn’t come to ‘Peculiar Amazement Avenue’ just to fantasize about impossibilities; I came to see what really chilled me, what really intrigued me.

I came to see him.

In an old, abandoned park near the middle of the ghost town, near the middle of my town, there were rusty swings and slides caked in mud and rain. And there was a wooden bench that I had come to know even better than the back of my hand. But the bench, with all of its holes and raggedly build, was only where my addiction sat.

I would take a quick glimpse and see him there holding his knees, his brownish-blond hair matted to his head as if he had just got through sweating. No matter what, whether the day was rainy or hot, he would always be there in the same exact formation, his head buried in his knees.

When I had first seen him so many days ago I thought he was crying, but now as I look at him I know that is not it. He is tired, but of what?

Today I would find out. Today, I told myself confidently, would be different. I would gather the guts to walk into the park and talk to him, I would figure out why he doesn’t go to school a day in his life so that I could stop having dreams and nightmares about him. I was too intrigued by him, too infatuated with him.

I quickened my pace now, hurrying to see a glimpse of him, but when I got there I lost all sense of mind. There he was, the King of the Park. He looked the same as always. His lanky legs up to his face, his arms wrapped around them as if they would run away. Except this time something was different, something was horribly wrong. His head was no longer buried in his knees, but up and looking straight ahead...straight ahead at me. I had always believed that I saw him as a ghost and he saw me as a ghost, and that we would never know we were right in front of each other but it was a stupid fantasy, a naïve fantasy.

I realized now that he was what really sent a chill up my spine. The silly thing about it was that he was the only one who had this effect on me. He scared me because he intimidated me without even speaking a word. And now he scared me even more because of his piercing eyes. They were blank and...Silver.

He held my stare for quite some time before I ran away, going back through the marshes and taking another path to school. I had never been so scared in my life, yet I had never felt so alive.

The King of the Park was not only the only somewhat alive person in my ghost town, but also the only person who could make me feel like hiding under a rock and never coming out ever again. I secretly named him Silver

Silver the boy of amazement.