I apologize in advanced for any errors in spelling or grammar. I was multi-tasking…

So, this chapter…yeah…It gets kinda dark. Just warning you.

BTW- that poem used in chapter one, just though I'd point out that it isn't mine. It belongs to the awesome, amazing, awe-inspiring Robert Frost. I forgot to give him credit in the author's notes…SORRY ROBERT FROST! I STILL LOVE YOU, DON'T BE SAD!

Yeah, well, enjoy.

…

Chapter four: Night

One week is all it took. My teachers even noticed the changes, as dense as they were. I was laughing again, becoming almost normal. And, although I still made after-school trips to the decrepit choir classroom, there was an old habit I had picked up.

I was singing again.

Today, I was particularly tired. It was Friday, the last day of classes until after thanksgiving, and the air was crisp and crunchy. I had propped open the windows in the choir room, letting the cold wash in. I sat down. Something clicked to the floor as I did, disturbed by the slight movement. My hands instinctively went to it, bringing it closer. It was a thin, metal plate with neat cursive writing. Unfortunately, it was so smudged I couldn't read what it said. A chill ran up my spine.

"Probably just a littlun's old tag." I dismissed, setting the object to the side, "Must've forgotten to pick it up…"

I sat there, unmoving, for a long while. Leaves blew in from the open windows. Slowly, I felt tiredness creeping up on me. I was nodding off…

No use in fighting it.

My head slammed into the metal bleachers in front of me, and I blacked out.

The first thing I registered was the warmth. It spread throughout my body, making fingers and toes mobile again. I could already tell, I was in the meadow again.

"You wanna know what I hate the most about being dead?" A familiar voice asked, dripping with sarcasm.

I didn't answer.

"I'm stuck in this stupid, fucking, ass-hat of a uniform for the rest of eternity."

I opened my eyes. I only ever knew one person who could shoot off that many cusses in one sentence so shamelessly.

"Roger!" I laughed, "It's been awhile!" He still looked the same, in his choir uniform, black hair sleeked down. Roger threw me a sneer.

"That's 'cause I'm Fucking dead, Jack." He stated. I looked away shamefully; it was all my fault. He continued on, without a single breath's pause, "You know, I was one of those people who thought they'd never die. I was invincible…I was-!"

"Roger Williams." I blurted out, "You were Roger Williams, class 10A, alto." His smile faded.

"I was named after the writer, you know." He pointed out crossly.

"That's rather unfitting."

"Tell me about it." He sighed and leaned back in the grass, removing his black cap and tossing it repeatedly into the air. He seemed angry again. Classic Roger.

"It's not my fault you're perpetually pissed off at everything…" I muttered half to myself, laying down a few feet away. He heard me pretty easily.

"Well," He retorted in good humor, "Seeing as how I'm dead, I can be eternally pissed off." Roger smiled and chuckled to himself. I tried not to let it get to me; He could be so…so…dense…sometimes. "Oh, come on, Jack." He shoved me lightly, seeing that I had shut down. "Hey, I was just joking."

"No, it's really not that funny." I commented bitterly.

"Whatever." He sighed and sat up, spinning his black choir cap around on a finger. "But, you really should get over it. After all, I'm only here for a night."

I jolted up as well. "Where do you go after that?!"

Roger returned my worried glare uneasily, then averted his deep crimson eyes. "Hell, probably." He muttered, "Don't be so sad, Jack. Honestly, you should have expected it. Where do you think people like me go? Certainly not to heaven, that's for sure." There was a rustling in a nearby bush. He turned to it and smiled warmly. "Speaking of heaven, we have a guest."

"Hm?"

A small boy with dark, almost black hair and tan skin stepped into the meadow and winked two, ig, green eyes. He fluttered over to us, sitting on his knees and examining the scene with a detached interest.

"Who are you?" I asked.

It's hard to explain exactly what it sounded like when he spoke. It was light and airy and seemed as if a thousand voices were speaking all at once, but at the same time, there was no noise at all.

"It's me, Simon."

"You forgot all about him, didn't you?" Roger asked. I couldn't say anything; I couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Suddenly, I remembered the seat tag I had picked up off the floor in the choir room. It had to be Simon's. I even had it in my hands…and still…I had forgotten.

"Jack, I forgive you. I have for a long time now. We can't hold on to such foolish things." Simon spoke again. He placed a tiny hand on one of mine and instantly I was flooded with warm thoufghts and emotions. It was comforting, wonderful.

"I'm so sorry Simon…" I whispered. He smiled and let go of my hand. "What-"

"Tag, you're it!" Simon tapped my shoulder and ran off into the woods, leaving me and roger sitting dumbfounded in the flowers. I unsurely reached out and stood up, punching Roger in the arm lightly.

"You're it?" I offered.

"You better run!" He sprinted after as I took off, and we raced around the meadow. Roger tackled me, dubbed me it, and ran off into the forest laughing. Without thinking twice about it, I followed after him.

There was a stirred shadow in the corner of my vision. The birds and insects had stopped conversing, and the only noise was a constant, high-pitched, ringing. I shook my head to clear it, an d saw that the shadow had only been Simon. He stood amongst the darkness so that only his glowing green eyes were visible. He blinked once. A certain insanity clouded his stare and his grin. Either way, I reached out and grazed his arm with my fingers.

"You're it, Si." I laughed lightly. He grinned wider, a smile stretched out across pale white teeth.

"The game's over, Jack." He crooned, stepping into the light. It was a strange light, not at all like I'd thought it would be. An eerie moon watched fervently from up above, I could see now. There was no day hidden in these woods. Only night. I turned back to Simon and gasped, pulling my hands over my mouth. God…Simon was…He was…

"Don't you want to play a new game with me Jack?" He called, reaching forward, "Why won't you play with me?" In some parts of his arm, the bone was visible and flesh had been torn away. On closer examination, it wasn't just his arm…but his whole body that had been torn to pieces. There was a single, clean hole in the palm of each broken hand. Suddenly and without warning, he started to bleed profusely from every visible orifice.

"Let's play 'hunters'." He said with the smile. I choked again, and shook my head.

"Nonononononononono…" I cried. I blinked once, and Simon convulsed and shivered, shaking loose his red skin and swirling into the moonlit sky in the form of a cawing blackbird. Someone tapped my shoulder and I spun around, still mortified.

"I've been looking all over for you Jack!" Roger chuckled darkly, "You have no idea what trouble I've been through!"

"Thank God, Roger, it's just you!" I sobbed, "I don't want to play this game anymore. Please, I just want to go back to the meadow!"

Roger's smile faded and a menacing look slipped into his eyes. "Aw, but now we can play properly." He murmured lowly.

'H-How."

There was a pause, filled only with silence. Then:

His smile returned.

The smile of a savage.

This was not my Roger, not the one I knew. This was savage Roger, face painted with mud and blood and clay. "I've sharpened a stick at both ends."

Before I could double back and escape, Roger pinned me down. I saw a knife in his hand and tried to squirm free; it was no use. He traced my neck with the edge of the blade.

"It's a sacrifice for the beast!" He shouted above my screaming. A stab of pain ripped through me as the knife cut into my jugular. Blood poured out of the wound and I struggled to clutch at it, to do anything at all to stop the river. My screaming continued in the background, although I had long since lost the strength to do that.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.

"Jack." A calm voice broke into my thoughts. The weight of Roger vanished. "Open your eyes, Jack."

A rushing noise repeated itself over and over again. I reached out curiously and found that I was no longer ion the forest. I was on the beach.

I shot up and opened my eyes. Water lapped at my ankles, tore at my shorts. The noise I had heard before didn't have a source; there was no shore, just endless, crystal-clear, ankle-deep water. I was sitting in it, staring in the direction of a bright red moon. Ralph stood in front of me, partially blocking out the moon's iridescent surface.

"You're safe here." He affirmed, "But you must never go into those woods again."

"What's so bad about those woods," I gasped, losing my voice a little, "What's happening? Why did Roger try to kill me? And Simon…What's in those woods?!"

Ralph turned to me and responded flatly.

"You."

…

Sins.

The constitution

Of nightmares

I am broken.

My dreams may come

Wish the nightmares away

But I can never tell which is which

Sins hide my discernment

I can never tell the difference.

…

So, how was it? Creepy, right? Thank you for reading and sticking with me, you guys! Please Review if you have the time!