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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Story of Jealousy

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A cottage appeared after walking for what seemed to be hours. It looked abandoned. The boy was confused that someone would leave such a place. It was beautiful. The wildflowers that colored the yard created a sense of security, and the path leading up to the front door reminded him of a summer evening, playing and laughing at curious things. A porch with overgrowth climbing its supports welcomed him in.

The night was falling.

"The great sun can't stay forever as the moon always lingers in its shadows."

That was something his mom told him; A story of a sun and a moon.

The sun had everything. He provided warmth for so many, growing and sustaining life all around. If there was anything that was needed, the sun could surely help. But the sun had a brother, the moon, that stayed in his shadows. He could never be anything like his brother. All he brought was the darkness of the night, and people always slept in his presence. Nobody would ever come to him for help because, in the end, he wasn't the sun. So at any chance, he pushed the sun away; he hated him being around, jealous of his accomplishments. The moon thought people hated him because he couldn't do as his brother could, so what was there to like? In reality, during the hot months, people waited for the moon to come and relieve them of the heat created by his brother. The darkness he brought gave them time to sleep so they could wake up for one more beautiful day. The animals that roamed at night thanked him for the security he gave them. He failed to realize these things, blinded by hatred. In his rage, the moon killed the sun. It wasn't until the people wept did the moon realize his actions. He tried to reason with himself; defending himself to clear his consciousness. But now the people hated him. He had nothing. So he disappeared, starting a new life, burying his crimes deep in his heart. Slowly, he tried to forget what he had done, living the life he had taken away from his brother. He sat every day and watched countless mourning come and go, only thinking of the night that was to follow. 

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The boy welcomed the cottage with a smile as he set down his backpack. It was a very private place, but that was how he always liked it. The inside was very well-kept and orderly but a thick layer of dust coated everything. It was as if someone cleaned for the day, anticipating walking back into their tidy house, but that moment never came, like life through that cottage door had simply... stopped. A shiver went down his spine at the thought. Brushing the growing uneasy feeling away, he went upstairs. There was a bedroom. It was largely empty, with only a few things remaining. The bed was made and art was still hung on the wall 

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"Oh my god, my head hurts."

I opened my eyes to beams of sun baring down on my face. The night before, I had failed to notice how thin the pillow was, compared to what I was used to. With barely any padding, my head had been against the hard mattress all night. I stumbled and made my way to my backpack to search for medicine to help ease the pain. I choked it down and sat with my back against the wall, my eyes shut tight, not ready to wake up.

My eyes fluttered open. I looked around the cottage with squinted eyes. To my left was a living area with a woven carpet, two sofas, and a glass coffee table. To my right was a small kitchen with checkerboard tiles. It was all open to one another like it was a single room. The pale yellow curtains blew in the breeze from a window cracked open slightly. I remained with my back pressed against the wall with my knees pulled to my chest as I hugged them. The bedroom had been upstairs, but I had just then realized the stairs were there the entire time. Everything was a blur; I realized I hadn't taken the time to perceive the place I had stayed. It was as if I knew this place like the back of my hand, but I was sure I'd never seen it in my lifetime. I press myself off the ground and scavenge my backpack for a snack. I always made sure to bring food, water, medicine, and changes of clothes while going on a walk. In the woods, you never know in what situations you will find yourself. Eating the energy bar I had grabbed, I looked around again. Dragging my feet as I moved towards the living area, I saw a bathroom I couldn't see from where I previously sat. There was also another bedroom. Long thin white curtains darkened the room. There was a feeling of horror as I slowly walked towards it, drawn in by what might've been hiding inside. When I looked through the doorway, there was a dresser with a mirror, a nightstand, and a white bed. I walked to the dresser first, pulling out one of the top drawers. Boxers. It must have been a boy's room. The next drawer had nothing; looking back, that was the only one that had been empty. Adjacent to it overflowed with notebooks containing students' school notes.

The fourth and final drawer had a single book. It looked as if it had been through a war and back. I picked it up, eager to know its contents. I had only begun to read the first word when I heard voices coming close to the cottage. Clutching the book, I dove to hide by the bedside, making a large bang accidentally. The voices momentarily paused.

"Shit. They heard me."

As I was about to stand up, I heard a frightened girl say, "The flowers. Oh my god, the flowers."

I rushed to the window to see the colorful wildflowers, the same ones I had seen just the day before, wilted and dead.

They were all dead.

I came to the front door, curiosity and terror gripping me. I stood for a moment turning around to see some high-school kids the same age as me, white as a ghost staring at me as if I had just killed somebody.

There was a girl and three boys, the boys around her acting as bodyguards. She screamed.

I'll never forget the scream.

The boys approached me

and then there was nothing.

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