Garth: robbo whatre u up to
Robbie: literally I have not done 1 single fucking thing today wbu
Garth: just woke up actually lol
Robbie: lmao what do u wanna do
Garth: I was just thinking actually do u remember the forets where we used to turn up?
Garth: *forest
Robbie: yeah I do remember the forets y
Garth: obviously im suggesting we hang out there
Robbie: obviously im down to clown w/that see u in 10
Garth: kk
Garth Howell and Robbie Pinkerton met up in the spot by the woods where they'd gone every summer for as long as they'd known each other, which was their entire lives, basically. Their family members corresponded in the same way: their mothers, their fathers, were best friends. Robbie had a little sister and Garth was an only child, however. But she had her own friends.
Since the end of their first year of high school—a year where they'd neither made nor sustained any friends besides each other—the two had suffered from inactivity. With nothing to do, they'd been struggling for something to focus on over the summer. This seemed like a good start.
This particular spot was their favorite because it was equidistant from their houses, and it was a particularly thin stretch of forest, which they liked because it didn't make them too scared. They were in the left leg of a giant wishbone-shaped stretch of trees. To the north, it opened up into a full-fledged, classical American forest, with a river, big rocks, non-trash-eating raccoons, and so forth. And in between both legs was a massive, flat clearing of dry and wild grass, which they avoided.
The two boys stepped through the trees. "God, we haven't been here since…"
"Since last summer, Garth."
"Yeah," Garth agreed. "Yeah, didn't we play Dungeons and Dragons here?"
"No, but that would've been way cooler."
"Why, what'd we do?"
"Well, we…played Dungeons and Dragons here. Like how you'd play house."
"Explain."
"I mean that we'd just thrust our palms at each other and yell 'MAGIC MISSILE' and 'FIREBALL!' That kind of thing."
"Eugh, God. I wish I didn't know us."
"Yeah."
"That sounds really fun actually."
"Yeah."
So they did that until it got dark.
"It's pretty dark," said Garth.
"Yeah. We should stop."
"Yeah. That was fun th—Wait…Wait, wait, wait…" Garth started whispering. "Do you hear that?"
"No, not—"
"That's because you're fucking talking," Garth shout-whispered.
Robbie glared at Garth but put his hand over his mouth anyway. Then he heard it too: a rustling, coming from behind him. He ran over to Garth and looked to the trees, where the sound was coming from. It grew louder and louder, until…
A very large, burgundy warthog with 6 horns ran out of the darkness in front of them. In his mouth was a stick, about 1 foot in total length. The warthog spat it out and then ran away in between them, just barely missing Robbie's right shin, disappearing as suddenly as it'd arrived.
"JESUS CHRIST!" Robbie yelled.
"Ssh!"
"Why? He's gone! I mean, it's gone. Did you see what that thing had in its mouth?"
"Yeah, it was a stick or something."
"Yeah. Maybe it was playing fetch."
"You think it's somebody's pet?!"
"I said 'was,'" said Robbie.
"Hmm."
Then Robbie trudged forward, into the darkness.
"Where are you going?!" Garth shouted nervously.
"To…right here?" Robbie bent down and started digging through the forest floor.
"Are you trying to get the stick?"
"Yeah, you wanna help me?"
"Not really? It was in a pig's mouth, seconds ago?"
"A warthog. And yeah, it was in a fucking warthog's mouth. And then it gave it to us."
"I think you're attributing way too much sentience to the war pig, Robbie."
"Just help me look." Garth trudged begrudgingly over, knelt down, and started rummaging through the dirt. "You don't even have to touch it."
"Yeah I do," said Garth. "When I find it."
"Oh, now you think you're gonna find it?"
"Yeah, Robbie. I'm really good at finding shit."
"Fine, okay. Whoever finds it first gets to keep it."
"Oh, God, no thank you."
"Hey, I found it!"
"Congrats." Garth stood up.
"Wait, no. It was just a regular stick."
Garth sighed and knelt back down. "What makes you think the warthog's stick wasn't regular?"
"Because why would a magical warthog have just a regular stick?"
"Magical?!"
"It had 6 horns, Garth."
"So? Is that…not normal?"
"I don't think so."
"What the fuck do you know? Found it!"
"Really?!"
"I dunno. Is that it?" Garth showed Robbie the stick he found, and Robbie could just barely see it in the moonlight. But still, he could see that it was too wild to have been the warthog's.
"Nah."
"Awesome. You know, maybe it's just an alien."
"An alien?"
"Yeah, an alien warthog."
"Garth, what the fuck do you know about warthogs?"
"Robbie, once I get this stick I'm shoving it up your ass. And I hope the warthog wants it back."
"Me too, I'll ask it all about what it's like to not be an alien as it works its naughty magic."
"Oh God. Hey, is this it?" Garth showed Robbie another stick.
"Yeah! Yeah, that's it!"
"Hooray," Garth said flatly. "Honestly, Robbie, it's just a dirty, damp stick."
"Dude, look at it."
Garth stood up and walked into a patch of moonlight. It wasn't a "stick" at all, not really. Whatever it was, it had been carved, albeit into a very simple shape, and it was almost exactly one foot long. The bottom fourth of it was a handle, darker and slightly thicker wood than the rest, which was rounded at the top.
"Perfect for ass shoving," said Garth.
"That's…really, dude?"
"Sorry."
"Let me see it."
"Nah. You said the first one who finds it gets to keep it, right?"
"You never agreed to that, though."
"Fine. I agree to it."
"You can't—"
"You never rescinded the offer, FUCKER! Magic missile! Magic missile!" Garth was jumping around Robbie, flicking the wand at him.
"Come on, dude." Robbie was just standing there, defeated.
Garth began prancing and waving, chanting "Magic missile, magic missile." It was super annoying. Then he stopped and looked more serious. He drew a deep breath and pointed the stick at the distant trees, further up the wishbone's leg, where the warthog had come from. "I cast magic missile at the darkness!" he shouted. A cold, dry wind started flowing into the forest shadow, carrying sharp leaves with it. Robbie could swear he heard someone nearby…
"Let's, um, stop being here."
"Yeah," Garth said, "I kind of feel like an idiot." He started walking out of the woods, towards home. "That alien warthog was weird th—"
Suddenly, extremely powerful yellow lightning and thunder shot out of the stick as Garth haphazardly dangled it. It instantly seared Garth's leg. "AAAAH!" he screamed, and started waving it around in panic. Robbie had to duck to avoid it.
"AAAAH!" agreed Robbie.
Garth spun around more and more, eventually just aiming at a single tree about five feet away from him.
"HOW DO I STOP IT?!" he screamed over the thunder booming like fireworks from the stick, and over the deep cracking of the particularly large tree.
"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" Robbie screamed back.
Eventually it ran its course and stopped, and the world seemed oddly silent. As they stood panting, they could hear the wind, louder and louder, until it was louder—and colder—than it had been before, and still increasing.
"Let's fucking BOOK IT," Garth screamed.
As they ran out of the forest, Robbie heard the same voices, and Garth heard them for the first time. They seemed to have come out of the clearing, and out of the darkness around them. Their number was impossible to tell, as was their location, only that they were everywhere but where Garth and Robbie were running, so they had to keep running. But they seemed to be getting closer and closer and closer. As Garth leapt out of the forest, he could swear he heard, right by his ear, the word "Muggle."
They decided to have a sleepover after that. But they couldn't sleep.