#‘wow that was cringe. I gotta delete it. and maybe kill myself’

[foulserpent]

nosleep mods deleted this for apparently not being a horror story. enjoy

My friend Ed is a bit of an outdoorsman. Not one of those hardcore 'two week hike hunting for food and sleeping in the dirt' types, but he does his share of hunting and camping. He and I got into it together when we met in community college and went on a weed-fueled camping trip over spring break, and since then he has far outgrown my own outdoor endeavors.

He's gotten some great stories to tell over the years. Finding a pair of souvenir Vegas dice in the stomach of a rabbit he was cleaning, getting hit by two skunks in a single day, close encounters with pumas and bears, and the far more harrowing and painful encounters with other hikers. But he's never come back with anything all that disturbing. Until his last trip.

Ed had been making an admirable effort of converting his 'spend the fall watching netflix and consuming pumpkin themed beverages' oriented boyfriend, Saúl, to some small game hunting. About a year ago, the two of them had taken a trip down south to do just that.

A few days into their week-long trip, I got a flurry of panicked texts from Saúl. It was all things like, "omg we just saw something so messed up" and "never going to the desert again LMAO there was a naked guy" or something to that effect.

I barely remember. I was bedridden with the worst case of the flu I'd ever experienced, and received these texts through a haze of fever and Nyquil. At that time, my response to those texts was more or less "Wow, hate when that happens :("

Neither of them provided elaboration upon their return, and I was a little too consumed in my own misery to ask for it. It was left at that.

Last week, Ed and I were practicing our usual 7 o'clock ritual of smoking behind the gas station during his break and complaining about the mere existence of customers. His mask was pulled down to his chin and he was fumbling with an entire cigar he'd brought to work, complaining about some customer who was shirtless in the middle of November and clearly blitzed out of his mind.

It was as he was describing the man's public indecency that I remembered the frantic texts I had received last fall.

"Hey, speaking of nudity...What was the story with the naked dude in the desert?" I asked him.

He cringed.

"From last year, on your trip?" I pressed.

"Yeah, I know, I know. God. Did Saúl text you?"

"Yeah, but he didn't give me the details of it."

Ed finished lighting the cigar, and took a long drag.

"Yeah, okay." He said. "I was honestly trying to forget about it but like. I don't know why Saúl was so stuck on the nudity like, that was the least messed up part of it all. It was the craziest thing."

It was the craziest thing is the set of words he would begin every particularly intriguing story with, and I realized I should probably settle in. I made myself comfortable against the dumpster in anticipation.

His story was as follows.

"So, yeah. We were out in the scrub. Technically weren't supposed to be there, we were a little ways off my aunt's land but like, there's no one to bug you about that out there. It was this kinda rocky area, lots of little hills and tall brush. So you couldn't see very far from the ground. And it was pretty well into the afternoon, and we hadn't caught a damn thing, so we were just kinda screwing around at that point. And we were near this bigass arroyo, and-"

He paused.

"Wait, you know what an arroyo is?" He asked me, taking another drag from his cigar.

I shook my head. He nodded solemnly at my midwestern ignorance.

“Okay, yeah. So it's a dry sorta riverbed in the desert. You ever seen a dried up creek? It's like that. They form when the rains come and are completely dry the rest of the year. And a lot of them are pretty small, but this one was like, a miniature canyon. Probably thirty feet across and ten feet deep. And it kind of winds around the hills before getting shallower when the elevation changes or whatever.

“So anyway we’re… yeah we’re there. The arroyo is on the other side of some rocks, and the open desert is in front of us. And we were sat down in the shade, having some beef jerky and stuff."

He paused again. He seemed to be lost in thought, eyes squinting and looking somewhere distant.

"So yeah, we're having a grand old time, just having a snack or whatever. And suddenly we hear screaming. Some guy’s screaming, ‘help! help me!’ out in the bush somewhere nearby.”

“And you know how Saúl is. Too much of a sweetheart for his own good. He's like nudging me and going "Eddie, we should go help." And yeah, sure, I wanted to help but there was something… Weird? About it? Like the shouting sounded real close but I wasn’t hearing anything else that, you know, accompanies a call for help. Like, no running, no sounds of struggling or being mauled by a wild animal or whatever. It was DEAD silent whenever the guy wasn't shouting.

"And like, call me an asshole but I'm not gonna do some ‘white person in a horror movie 'lets split up, gang!'’ shit. I was staying right where I was.”

"So we just kind of sat there, listening to it. The guy had started just- shrieking. No words, just making noise. And at this point I was starting to feel like a complete bastard for being the pragmatic one, but Saúl didn't seem to wanna move either. Like, it was super off.

"And then, there’s another sound. Kind of a…uh… Gurgling noise? Like-”

Ed broke off to make an odd sound in his throat. It was a low, prolonged croak that slowly lifted into a 'whoop!’

Some old woman in the process of fueling her SUV glared at him. He scowled back.

“Okay, it was actually nothing like that. But you get the idea.”

“And that happens a couple times, and it... It didn't sound like a person's voice anymore. And I'm thinking maybe the world's most fucked up coyote just killed a guy and was celebrating or whatever, but it didn't really sound like an animal either. It was kinda inorganic, you know what I mean?

"But yeah, it kind of whoops a couple more times, and then the last time it just... Didn't stop. It kept going, and it turns into this- music? It sounded, uh, sort of like a bunch of different flutes being played at once. But lower. Very deep. I don’t remember the tune so don’t ask. But it was music, and me and Saúl are just looking at each other like "what the fuck?”.

"And at that point, curiosity is kicking in and I'm gripped by this wave of idiocy, so I get up and start walking towards the sound. Low to the ground, super slow. Stealth. And I can tell it’s coming from the arroyo. So I just verrrrry carefully climb up the side and look inside.“

Ed paused to grasp for words.

"And there’s a man in there. Some pasty dude. Sunburnt, t-shirt tan lines, all that. Pretty scrawny, but otherwise normal looking from the chest down. No injuries or nothing, which I can say for sure because, yeah, the dude is completely naked. I mean naked. There was a pile of his clothes nearby, and his whole dick was out and he was barefoot. And he was DANCING. He’s just dancing naked in this friggin’ ditch.

"And it took me a bit to process what was going on with his head. Like, the music sounds are coming from up there. And I’m thinking he’s got some sort of weird instrument over his head, but he dances towards me and um. He has no head. Or like- Shit. He kind of has a head? Like I could sort of make it out, but it’s tilted all the way backwards. Like, touching his back. So his neck's facing the sky, and his eyes are just kind of staring out behind him.

"And there’s all these… tubes. Coming out of where the nose and mouth probably used to be. Big fleshy tubes, skin toned. But they didn't flop around, they were like, pretty firm. And they’ve got little holes all over them. And that’s where the music is coming from. He’s playing them.”

Ed lifted his arms over his head and mimed with his fingers. “Like a flute”

“So like, it’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen, basically, but I can’t stop watching. And Saúl eventually comes up beside me, and we don’t say anything, we just watch this guy. It’s gotta be like… A solid hour we’re just sitting there, with this guy playing his music and dancing around. And he starts moving up the arroyo, still dancing the whole time, and eventually he’s out of sight. But we hear the music a good while longer until it gets too distant. I don't think he ever saw us. Or he didn't care. I don't know."

He was silent for a long while. I waited for him to continue, but it was evident that it was over.

"And... That was it?" I asked.

"Yeah, that was it. We got the hell out of there and didn't see him again. Or hear anything about a crazy nudist in the area."

He took another puff of his cigar, and coughed.

"I mean, it could have been... A really, really good costume or something. Like, REALLY good. I mean I definitely saw his eyes blinking. On the head that was... You know. Bent entirely backwards. But hey, could be a costume!" He added with a flourish, clearly not entertaining this possibility whatsoever.

"Holy shit." I said.

He laughed, and snuffed out his cigar in the snow. "Damn right."

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 1/13

Chapter Title: Rollarcoaster

Words: 3,050

Note: my piece for the @pjo-hoo-bigbang !!! special thanks to @shelbychild and @wisdom-walks-alone for editing and helping me develop this story! it wouldnt exist w/o y’all!

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Nico is staring at his computer, wordless. This isn't writer's block or surprise; it’s just the unknown reality of what this situation could lead to.

Another gay kid in his school. Another gay kid that isn’t Mitchell—who’s been out since 8th grade, and the only one to be out since then. Another kid at their school who’s hiding a secret. 

Nico doesn’t even know if this kid is a boy or a girl or what, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There’s another kid like him. And he has no idea how to respond to the post.

The post is a submission from their school’s gossip blog on Tumblr, the notorious ‘hb-secrets.’ Piper had called him an hour ago, asking if he’d seen it yet.

“Seen what?” he had responded.

“The post on hb-secrets? About the closeted gay kid?” It hit Nico like a wall of bricks as he quickly went to pull up the website. Did somebody know? It was a relief when he saw the clipart Ferris wheel and a few short lines submitted by a blog called blue0919.

“I bet it’s that Brazilian sophomore. Paolo or whatever? Or maybe it’s Connor Stoll! I swear he’s been flirting with Mitchell, but Annabeth keeps telling me that he’s into Lacy or someone,” Piper continued as he read, but it was going in one ear and out the other as he processed the words on the screen

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a Ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, and the next minute I’m at rock bottom. Over and over all day long, because a lot of my life is great. But nobody knows I’m gay.

“Gotta go. I’ll talk later,” Nico said quickly, switching off his phone. He knew it would raise suspicion, but it felt like time was turning in on itself. Nobody knew about Nico. In fact, nobody ever even suspected. He’s never been called names besides “Death Boy.” And yet, there were the exact words that described his life, written out in front of him like they were a second thought.

And now, he was staring at his computer with an empty Gmail draft open. The original poster had left their email at the end of the post, so Nico after glancing quickly at his Panic! at the Disco poster still proudly hanging on his wall, typed out a new address. He was stuck, though, unsure of what to say from here. 

So, he started from the beginning.

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 6:48 PM

Subject: Hey

Somehow you’ve managed to type exactly what I feel. Sorta scary, as if you’re inside my head or something. Maybe it’s just a gay thing to be speaking in metaphors about the pressure of everyday society.

That’s what I am. Gay. I don’t know if I’ve ever really said it out loud to myself.

It’s weird because I never really had a perfectly normal life. My mom died when I was young, so I never really got to meet her. My sister and I have always been super close until she went away to college. Now, not as much. I guess that’s just what happens when you live a million miles away. 

And I’ve known my stepmom longer than I knew my real mom, but it was only a few years ago when I met my half-sister when she came to live with us because her mom died as well. Meaning, she isn’t the daughter of my stepmom. It’s a long story, and not really one I want to get into.

She’s super nice though. It’s funny, but despite being polar opposites with my older sister, they’re both mushy inside. Same with my stepmom. And my dad… he tries his best. We’re like exactly what you expect from a slightly broken family. Plus my dog who my cousin gave to me during a rough time. Honestly, she’s probably my favorite sibling out of them all. (Both my sisters would kill me if they knew I wrote that.)

And then there are my friends. I have some that are closer than others; Two of them I’ve known for a while now, and one who I only met recently but treats me better than some of the people I’ve known my whole life. While I admit, I’m not the most social person in the world, they’re pretty amazing as far as friends go. 

So there it is. My perfectly normal life. Except for that huge ass secret.

He typed and retyped each line what felt like a thousand times, deleting word after word. He didn't know what was too much. It all felt like too much, really. He didn’t even know if he could trust this person.

Signing it was the worst part; he didn’t have any good pseudonyms. Eventually, he decided to leave it blank.

Without a second thought, Nico hit ‘send’ before leaning back in his chair and putting his hands over his head. Only a second later, a light knock came from the door, causing him to quickly sit up as Hazel popped her head in.

“Dinner’s ready if you wanna eat,” she smiled. She left just as quickly as she came, curls bouncing as she walked away. They had gotten over the awkwardness of having a new sibling only months after Hazel moved in, but there was still some strangeness. To this day, Nico was still a lot closer to her than Bianca was. Either way, Nico knew he would do anything for her. (Not that he would admit that. He didn't even need to, Hazel already knew.)

Nico glanced back at his computer, but there was nothing in his inbox besides the Gmail “Welcome” email. It was stupid to think this person would respond that quickly, seeing as Nico didn't even know if they would respond at all. Heaving a sigh, he got up to join his family for dinner. Maybe he could even convince them to watch Steven Universe instead of The Bachelor.

---

Dinner went as expected. It’d been a while, actually, since they were all together for a meal. Hazel talked about her psycho geometry teacher and a boy she talked in the class named Frank, who seemed sweet but apparently had a shared hatred for math just like her. Nico didn’t say much, although chimed in at the latter, saying he better be the flower boy at their wedding. That even got a short scoff out of his father, which tended to be the closest Nico ever got him laughing. So, that was a win. 

However, he was a little more distant than usual. The pending email response was in the back of his mind during the entire meal.

Even afterward, as they watched reruns of Glee (a compromise made between Hazel and Nico, much to their father’s dismay), Nico couldn’t focus. It felt like a weight was burning through his back pocket. After the second episode (and laughing his ass off at his father’s reaction to Kurt’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance) he finally excused himself. 

He tapped the Gmail app on his phone as soon as he had reached his room. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the new notification, a response from the original poster. With slightly shaky hands, he tapped the response, and a message opened up.

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:12 PM

Subject: I’ve never done this before

Dear anonymous person on the internet,

I really don’t know where to begin. I’m also not sure if you're a real person. For all I know you could be some random pedophile like one of those cases they warned us about in health class for the past 5 years, even though it’s never happened within the last decade.

But in case you are real, hello! I’m the original poster from that hb-secrets thread about life being a Ferris wheel. I’m rereading what I wrote there and I can’t stop cringing, so I’ll start by apologizing for that. I’m not usually one for metaphors, even the bad ones.

Anyway, it sounds like you identify with what I wrote. I’m glad you emailed me; I didn’t think anyone would actually do anything with the email that I left. Except maybe be extremely homophobic. But it made me feel less like I was shouting into the void, so thanks for that. And I assume you’re okay with me writing back since you sent me the first email. Though, I can’t believe I’m actually writing to you. I really didn’t think I would.

I guess I’m thinking it could be nice to talk with someone who can relate to how I’m feeling. No pressure, of course, but feel free to write back if you want to. I don’t want to use my real name, but you can call me Blue. 

It was surreal. Someone who was like Nico. Someone who wanted to talk to Nico because they were like him. 

He started to type again, with more excitement than he’s ever felt. He’s never been able to express this part of him before. It was almost like first date jitters-type feeling. 

(Not that he really knew what that was like.)

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:23 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Hi, Blue

Wow, I’m actually kind of flipping out right now, because I seriously didn’t think I’d hear from you, especially so quickly. Wow. Okay. First of all, thanks for your email and also for your Tumblr post. I really liked it, Blue, and it wasn’t cringy at all, I promise.

So do you go here (here meaning HBHS)? I do, I’m a junior. And I’m a guy (are you a guy?) Anyway, I could relate a lot to your post, Like, pretty much all of it, but especially the part about being gay. You probably figured that out already though. And I’m not out yet either, which you probably figured that part out too. 

I guess a part of me wants to be out, but a part of me’s like… no. It’s hard to explain. I don’t know. Maybe you get it.

So yeah, it’s really nice to meet you! This is kind of cool, right? Even writing this email makes me feel eleven times less alone.

-Angel (not my real name either, two can play at this game. It’s not like a pet-name type thing. If you ever find out who I am, you’ll understand why.) 

He was worried about the whole name-signing thing. ‘Angel’ was just the easiest thing; it was a direct translation of his last name. He was really hoping Blue still didn’t take it in a weird way, even with that last note.

Relief flooded through him when he read the first sentence of Blue’s next email. 

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:41 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Angel, huh? Maybe like guardian angel perhaps. 

Also, eleven times less alone? That’s oddly specific. :) But I know exactly what you mean.

Anyway, wow. Hi. You wrote back, and quickly too. I’m really glad you liked my post. Now I’m actually happy I put it out there. I have to admit, it’s strange to be writing a somewhat personal email to you when we don’t know each other’s identities. Though, in a way, I guess that makes it easier. Sorta like a therapist, except we’re both blindfolded and have the same problem. So not really a therapist, I guess.

Do you think therapists have therapists? Like, if the problems get to be too much for them? Is there an Almighty Therapist who just absorbs everyone's issues and feels nothing?

Anyway, I am a guy, and I’m also a junior at HB. I think you’re actually the first other gay guy I’ve met here. It’s pretty surreal to be talking to you. (In a good way though.) I wonder if we know each other in real life. 

And I think I understand what you mean. I feel like I’m constantly going back and forth about wanting to come out. I have these moments where I’m almost bursting to tell people. Of course, that’s where I was when I posted the thing on Tumblr. But I always feel so weird about it a few hours later, and sometimes I’m intensely relieved no one knows yet. What about you?

-Blue

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:12 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I mean, let’s be real, eleven is the best number, which is perfect because we’re both in eleventh grade. And I can't believe we’re both juniors. The class is pretty small compared to the others, so I bet we do know each other, which is weird to think about. What if we’re actually enemies in real life? Do you have enemies? I don’t think I do, not really. Various people tend to annoy me a lot. It’s not even their fault; some people just have really punchable faces.

 (I’m usually a really nonviolent person. I’m more like a violent person who at the same doesn’t really want to hurt anyone, so I have to resort to fantasizing about punching people, which just ends in eating my feelings in large quantities of McDonald’s.)

It’s funny for me, it’s actually not so much that go back and forth about wanting to come out. It’s like I simultaneously do and don’t want to be out. Which is pretty freaking exhausting, honestly. Like I’m in this constant state of JUST SAY IT and NO NEVER. Do you think that ever ends? I don’t know, maybe I’m just a really indecisive person. I think part of me is also just holding out until college when I’m away from anyone I know and can just reinvent myself.

So what kind of stuff do you like to do after school and everything?

-Angel

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:34 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I don’t think I have any enemies, but now I’m definitely wondering if I’m the guy with the punchable face. How do you know if you have a punchable face? I’ve never been punched, so hopefully, that’s a good sign. 

I will say, I’m definitely with you on the issue of eating your feelings. I’m the person who has never smoked a cigarette or gotten drunk or anything like that, and I'm usually relatively healthy. However, I once ate five jars of Nutella in one sitting. I do not recommend, 

I’m indecisive, too, in some ways. Okay, full disclosure: I was really conflicted when you sent me that email. I kept going back and forth about whether I should email you. I was (and am) definitely intrigued, but I guess I was also a little bit paranoid. It’s just that you could have been anyone, and it’s hard to know sometimes if someone’s being a jerk or if they’re being sincere. Plus my cousin sort of actually outed me. Not to anyone else, he’s the only one who knows, but now I’m super paranoid about coming out. (Exactly what you said about holding out until college. I’m thinking I can move to LA or somewhere where nobody really cares. Although I wouldn’t want to reinvent myself. And I don’t want you to reinvent yourself either, you’re pretty cool as you are I think.) Anyway, I’m really glad I decided to email you, though.

So, you’re probably going to think I’m ridiculous, but I’d rather not answer your last question. It’s just… I think I like being anonymous for now. Is that okay?

-Blue

Okay, that last part was fair. Nico understood the wanting-to-be-anonymous thing. Sure, they go to the same school. But Blue had no reason to entirely trust him; Nico didn’t really trust Blue at all. This could entirely be some random asshole anywhere in the world trying to find him and beat him up, or worse. It sucked that homophobia was still a thing in their day and age. 

But Blue said he liked talking to Nico, and it was thrilling to talk to him. It was another secret of his, but not one he entirely minded keeping. So, he chose to believe that Blue was actually who he said he was. 

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:57 PM

Subject: Punchability

Blue, you have so much to learn about the rules of punchability, starting with the fact that it is completely impossible for you to have a punchable face. Rule number one: guys who make metaphors about Ferris wheels are automatically unpunchable. Rule number two: There isn’t one. Just rule number one, so memorize it. Everyone else can catch these fists. (Catch these fists? These hands? This would probably be more intimidating if I knew the correct phrasing)

Also, five jars of Nutella in one sitting is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. Challenge accepted.

I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Blue. I totally understand why you don't want to tell me about your extracurricular activities (I’m guessing interpretive dance, though, you seem like the type.) But seriously, I get it. It’s this weird contradiction, right? It’s so much easier to be open with someone who doesn't know you at all. We’ll be each other's Ultimate Therapists. 

(Except I don’t think I could ever be a therapist.)

Anyway, I’m really glad you decided to email me back, too :)

-Angel

That smiley face was really unlike him. 

Nico sent the email, but after nearly an hour, he didn’t get on back, which meant Blue was probably asleep. Which was different from what Nico was used to; he tended to stay awake until the early hours of the morning most nights. But it wasn’t anything he minded. He had a conversation with Blue, and even if that was the last one they would ever have (which, he was hoping it wouldn’t be), it was good to know that there was somewhere out there like him.