Rylan pushes through his bedroom door straight to the bathroom mirror. "Shit..."
The eye under his left one, was still there, blinking at him. Weird. Usually, those eyes would move, maybe somewhere on his arms or legs...or neck. But this one stayed on a little bit longer.
It was getting annoying at this point. "The hell? Find somewhere else to hide out, at least. Anywhere but on my face..."
The eye blinks slowly, almost lazily. It seems dead set on sitting right where it is.
"Fine, guess we're doing this the hard way..." Rylan huffs, before grabbing a band-aid from the medicine cabinet, peeling the backs, and placing it over the eye. The eye tries to blink away the band-aid, but it's unsuccessful, wriggling underneath the bandage as if struggling to break free.
It's just another school day for him. Rylan closes the medicine cabinet and begins to brush his teeth. It's only when he hears the sound of someone knocking on the mirror that he looks up. His reflection has his palms flat on the mirror, his eyes widened in what has to be sadistic glee. He nearly swallows the toothpaste in his mouth as he flinches, turning his whole body away from the sight.
That's when he hears his mother's tired yet firm voice calls out to him from the bathroom. "Rylan, stop messing around in there and get ready for school!"
"Coming! Just...give me a minute!"
He rinses his mouth, then rushes to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. However, his mom stops him before he can sit at the table, grabbing him by the face, and turning it over and over.
"Stick out your tongue."
"Ma! I—"
"I'm not letting you walk out of here with one of those eyes on your tongue. Remember when you almost ruined your second-grade graduation because—"
"Can you not bring it up every time, Ma?"
"I'm serious! We can't let anyone see this, Rylan! Now stick out your tongue..."
As much as he'd like to protest, he has to admit...he'd rather not be treated like a freak at school. He rolls his eyes but sticks out his tongue to let her see it. She searches for a moment, inside his cheeks on the roof of his mouth, even in his throat. Fortunately, no eyes seem to be there.
"Okay, you're good. You head to school." she finally lets his face go and pats him on the shoulder.
Rylan mumbles something under his breath annoyed that he still needs to be coddled like a child because of his condition. He grabs a piece of toast and smoked sausage for breakfast and gets to school.
***
Errock Perry High School was one of those stereotypical high schools, a pretty good athletics department all around, and the majority of the students weren't failing, at the very least. But there was always one flaw with the students, personality-wise.
Once they were wary of you, they would nag and harass you until they got their desired answer. The rumor mill at Errock Perry never ran dry, feeding off whispered secrets that burned through the school like wildfire. So, when Rylan strangely started to wear the bandages covering his "secret", people got curious. Too curious.
Rylan was one of those guys that kept to himself, for obvious reasons. Like his grandma said, the curse loves attention. And the more attention it got, the stronger it became on the rest of the family. At first, he could tell it off as something like a scratch or a rash, but once the eyes began popping up regularly, his excuses became thin and unbelievable. And then the questions started coming in.
Of course, today was no different. A small group from his history class followed him through the halls of the school, which was constantly covered in tiles of orange and purple, and posters plastered with the mascot, Paxton Panther. He was just about to get the books out of his locker when he felt a firm, almost painful tap on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he slips the headphones off his ears and turns around to face them.
There's Arianne Rowe, the certified bossy girl of the group. Although she was petty, nosy, and full of gossip, she was ditzy and, to be honest, most likely the dumbest classmate Rylan's ever had. Her long blonde hair reached the middle of her back, and her blue eyes looked up at people judgingly to see if they were worth her time. She was always the popular girl in school, and due to Rylan's staggering height (at least, compared to her), and his less-than-energetic personality, she always had him at her flank at all times. He is essentially her personal, although, unwilling bodyguard.
Next to Arianne is Felix Miller, a definite know-it-all and honor roll student. He always dresses somewhat casually, despite his nerdy nature, wearing a sweatshirt and baggy pants. He spends all day in the lab, working on his robot "dog" with the rest of the people on the robotics team, and when he's not doing that, he's tutoring Arianne to help her pass her science and math classes. The two became friends by proxy, as Arianne had smooshed them together despite their clashing personalities. Felix doesn't believe in something that he can't measure, calculate, or see with his own eyes, so telling him anything about the curse would be...fruitless.
Lastly, there's Mika Tokiyashi. Quiet, mostly because she's a transfer student from Japan and doesn't know much English. Rylan's seen her visiting the Supernatural Club recently, but he hasn't shown that she's actually in the club. She either communicates with either nods, subtle glances, or small bursts of broken, yet understandable English. She kind of just...started following Rylan one day, and wouldn't leave him alone, and Arianne thought that Mika was cute enough to join the little posse.
Interrogating relentlessly, Arianne was always the first to ask, twirling her blonde curls through her fingers and looking up at him with increased skepticism. "What's going on with you and your bandages? Do you have some kind of skin problem?"
"If I told you, you'd freak. Trust me. You don't want to know what's under this band-aid." he whispers cryptically. "It's not a scar or a tattoo or some stupid pimple. It's something serious. Something I can't repeat."
"Is it like...Supernatural Club weird?" another student, Felix asked after, adjusting his thick glasses.
"It's dangerous. Nothing like you would hear in that dumbass club."
"You're being cryptic about it...just tell us what it is..."
Rylan gives a cold, dry chuckle. "If only I could..."
Arianne scrunched up her nose, annoyed. "Never mind. Keep your weird mysteries. I'm going to class..." She turned on her heel to leave, staring at Felix, silently telling him to follow her to her next class. And, of course, he felt obligated to follow her.
That left Rylan and Mika standing at his locker, looking up at him—well, rather at something on him.
"What? What's wrong?" he asks, slightly nervous.
Mika doesn't say anything; she just points toward his cheek, where his bandage lies.
That's when he feels something wet on his cheek. He reaches up and finds that the bandage is also damp and about to slip from his face. The eye was deliberately crying to dilute the adhesive on the bandage.
Rylan grits his teeth as his hand instinctively hides the eye from view. "Do you mind us taking this...somewhere else? Some other time?"
"Okay." Mika agrees, her voice barely loud enough to reach his ears. "But promise to show me, okay? Later?"
Rylan presses her hand over his cheek a bit tighter, trying to keep his eye in check. "Yeah...later."
Mika nods, before running off to her next class. Rylan realizes that he only has a few minutes left before the bell rings, and runs to his class too.
Unfortunately for them, there was another listener to this conversation. Someone is intrigued by Rylan's situation. Closing her locker, she looks in Rylan's direction with a hint of curiosity. Intrigue...she hums, before heading to class herself.
***
The school passes by in a blur. Rylan tightens his grip on his backpack, trying to hurry to practice before his coach tears into him for being late.
He squirms and pushes his classmates out of the way, trying to get to the field before he's tardy for practice. He knows he doesn't wanna get an earful from Coach Daniels again for missing out on valuable warm-up time... especially for a big game like the one on Friday.
While he's walking his way to the baseball field, his stomach tightens for what seems to be no reason. Reflexively, he looks over his left and right shoulder. Nothing. Slightly more paranoid, Rylan shakily exhales...and keeps walking, although, occasionally looking over his shoulder.
"Alright..." he mutters. "You're making me paranoid now?"
He turns on his heel, looking behind him as he walks backward. Once again, nothing. But the feeling still doesn't leave. His eyes dart to the trees that cover the school. Just beyond the trees. It's awful for a paranoid guy like him, who thinks someone or something is coming after him when he's all alone. Where is this feeling coming from?
Rylan turns back around to walk towards the field. Must've been a figment of his imagination. He's scaring himself, he thinks. He looks down at the ground, watching his feet take step after step. Anything to distract himself from the feeling—
He's bumped into something... or someone. He's about to shove the guy out of the way when he takes a better look at the person in front of him. It's...Rylan? He has to do a double take, but sure enough, it's him. The same hairstyle, brown skin, and even the tooth gap his family's known for.
Rylan takes off his headphones and turns off the music that is blaring through them. His brow furrows in confusion, mostly, but also frustration. "Okay, the hell is this?"
The other Rylan raises his hand, giving a lazy wave, yet even he doesn't turn to Rylan. But even that simple gesture is enough to send shivers down his spine. That twisting feeling in his gut comes back...even stronger, more potent than earlier.
Rylan runs up just enough to see part of this doppelganger's face. To his surprise, no bandages. All the eyes that would normally be covered by those bandages, they're looking around, as if the doppelganger is...alright with them being out. Suddenly, all the purple eyes lock onto him, the pupils narrowing.
Rylan immediately crumples to the ground, the pain in his chest spreading throughout his body. His head is throbbing... his stomach feels like it's being wrung out like a rag...
The substance that spills from his mouth is thicker...and darker than blood. It's as if a piece of the void just came from his throat and onto the ground in front of him.
The doppelganger begins to speak, eerily imitating Rylan's voice. "If you didn't want to deal with this," it said, "you shouldn't have been born. I will continue to torment your family for what they did. Until all of you slowly die out."
That wakes Rylan up a bit. Was this a...generational thing?
"Leave...m-me alone..." Rylan quietly croaks out as he gets up to his knees. Once he's shakily on his feet, he lunges at his doppelganger with his fists raised. When he swings...all he feels is air.
He looks to his left and his right...and nothing's there. The doppelganger is gone, and so is the puddle of tar he coughed up. The only thing that hasn't disappeared is the tightness in his chest. It's like he's just woken up from a bad dream.
Rylan takes the time to catch his breath. He leans up against the light pole nearby and takes large gulps of air to calm his rapid heart rate.
The curse tended to "act up" at random points during the day. Mostly at night while he's trying to sleep since that's when he's most vulnerable. But right now, with that kind of intensity? That has to mean something.
But he can't think about that right now. Coach Daniels doesn't have time for slackers, so he'd better be there and in uniform in fifteen minutes or he'll be benched for the game.
He forces his legs to move, running towards the locker room. Most of his teammates are already halfway dressed, and just chatting amongst themselves and just generally goofing off.
He gets into a stall and looks at himself in the mirror as he changes into his uniform. He doesn't take himself off of his reflection for a minute. He checks on the bandage again. He feels the eye moving a bit, but still, the bandage stays.
"Not today," he snarls, talking inwardly to the curse. "You're not doing this today..."
He checks over his uniform one last time and then runs out to the field.
The practice field is a spacious brown diamond surrounded by green, marked with boundaries and guides indicating where players should run and their positions. Sturdy metal bleachers line both sides, usually where Coach Daniels would yell and swear at slackers and criticize mistakes.
His teammates are all doing stretches on the field, loosening their muscles for the practice ahead. Rylan quickly gets into the rhythm and starts his warm-up.
Jason Kleric was also there, as per usual. Rylan doesn't know if Jason ever actually goes to class. He was always the jock type. Just as stupid as Arianne, if not stupider, incredibly loud and brash, and seemed to care about who the cutest girl in school was more than the education itself.
"Hey, it's Ry-Bread!" Jason says in his obnoxiously mocking tone. "How's it going? You were almost late...again. You're not bailing on us Friday, are you?"
Rylan snorts, "Who said I was bailing? The kids in the hallway were taking forever to leave."
Jason smirks. "You're lucky I'm here today and Coach isn't. I'm gonna let it slide this time, so you'd better your head in the game today..."
"Someone's gotta tell Coach that we're here for more than just baseball... I wanna graduate too, y'know?"
Jason smirks again, shaking his head. "Typical Rylan Banks... always multitasking. Just do it like I do, one thing at a time. School can wait."
"Hell no..." Rylan snaps back. "My mom would kill me if she found out my grades were as bad as yours..."
"C'mon, Rylan...are they that bad?"
"Jason, I'm pretty sure you're the only one in Mrs. Winslow's class who got below sixty percent on that algebra test last week..."
Jason patted Rylan on the back as the team got up and grabbed their gear for drills. "Hey, let's not stress about the details. We got a game to win Friday."
He passes Rylan a baseball bat before running to the dugout. "Ry-Bread... you're batting today."
"Right." Rylan grunts, running to his position and getting ready.
Once he's in position, everything else around him fades away. His movements, usually sluggish and slow, become excited and practiced...almost robotic. It's like he's two different people both off and on the field. Strangely, even his curse, which usually bothered him all day, couldn't mess with him. But it still tried...in its weird way.
His first few hits were normal. He anticipates which kind of throw the pitcher makes, and then he swings. The crack of the bat hitting the ball echoed throughout the field, as normal procedure. But of course, the curse always had to claw for Rylan's attention once again. He's watching for the pitcher, sophomore Derrick Monroe's wrist for that undeniable flick. He's predicting a curveball...and then, he sees it—a surge of purple, like the irises of the curse, around the rim of his vision. Strangely, despite its usually irksome nature, it almost... helps him.
Almost on instinct, Rylan swings the bat with incredible speed and power, way stronger than he usually does. The ball flies across the field, sailing far over the outfield fence and over onto the other side, where...oh shit.
The ball manages to throw off the nearby cheerleaders who are also practicing for the football game this Thursday. He can't see them dodging out of the way of the ball, but he can hear the high-pitched screeches as they scramble to avoid it. While Rylan was slightly concerned, the other boys were cackling and pointing at the girls' hysterical scramble.
Arianne, with one of the megaphones, yells at the baseball team with her usual fury. "Hey! What the hell?! Are you trying to kill one of us? Which one of you thick-skulled jerks threw that ball over the fence?!"
Rylan sighs, knowing he's gonna get chewed out later. Better apologize while he still has the time to.
"Sorry, that was my bad. Underestimated my swing," he muttered.
"Underestimated?" Arianne snarled. "You almost took my head off, you idiot!" she uses the megaphone to lightly hit him over the head, making a light thwack as it connects.
Rylan winces as he rubs his head and she hits him. "Ow! I said I was sorry! Damn..."
"Sorry doesn't cut it when you almost take Mia's knee out!" she snaps back.
Mia, one of the meeker cheerleaders, nods in agreement. "It was that close!" she uses her fingers to signify the amount of space between the ball and her leg.
"Honest accident, I swear." he winced again.
Arianne scrunched up her nose and shook her head in exasperation. "Boys..." her head snaps to the girls and less angrily tells them to get back into position.
The baseball team seems to be doubling over in laughter. One places a hand on Rylan's shoulder, trying to steady himself after the laughing fit. "Man, Rylan, that was awesome! You gotta do that more often!"
"Did you hear the way they freaked out? That was hilarious!" another one jeered. "C'mon, give us the secret! How'd you get it over the fence like that?"
Rylan tries to mask his nerves with a smirk. "Forget it. You guys'll spill before Friday..."
The boys protest and groan in frustration from Rylan's refusal. They shake his shoulders and poke him in the side to force it out, but he's too stubborn to tell.
As he's pushing away his teammates and jokingly telling them off, he sees something...someone. He's surprised no one noticed the man was there, considering how noisy the bleachers tend to get when someone walks on them. But the entire time, he hadn't heard a thing.
Not only that...that raven-colored suit. It looks familiar..., so familiar, he can almost recognize it.
His great-uncle Charles. He passed three years ago, and he's positive about that. He was at the funeral...his uncle was wearing that same suit the day of his burial.
Rylan's breath hitches at the sight. Seeing someone you know is dead suddenly alive and watching you live your life. It's terrifying. It's even more terrifying when the figure suddenly turns its head towards him and gives him a wide, gap-toothed smile. But the warmth of his uncle's smile...it wasn't there anymore. And most importantly...his eyes. They're that same shade of purple, glowing brightly like the stadium lights above them.
Rylan's breathing quickens, his grip on the bat firm and taut. The sounds around him begin to fade until it's just the sound of his inner monologue...and the sound of his uncle's voice, humming one of his old tunes.
Move. He tells himself. Why aren't you moving? Just look away and it won't be there anymore.
Jason suddenly claps Rylan on the back, snapping him out of his paralysis. For once, the baseball captain looks concerned, something Rylan doesn't see often.
"Rylan, what's up with you? You just froze on us. What's on the bleachers that's messing with you?"
Rylan shakes his head. "Zoned out for a minute. Sorry..."
Jason's eyebrows knit together. "Maybe you should get some rest. You look like hell. I'll tell Coach you felt a little bit under the weather and went home, alright?"
The offer of going home early is... tempting, but still...he can't afford to slack off when the biggest game of the season is just around the corner. Rylan shakes his head.
"...As much as I want to...I can't miss a day of practice. Not when this game is coming up."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Man, come on. You'll be burnt out before the game even starts. If Coach saw you right now, he'd tell you, 'Banks! Get your ass home and get some rest! You look like shit!'...or something like that." he chuckles. "Besides, I think you're good. You're our best batter. You don't need any practice for this. We got a couple of extra batters that definitely need the practice. Head home or something."
...Rylan lets out a tired sigh. "Alright, fine. I'm only taking a break because you told me to though..."
Rylan limps to the locker room to grab his belongings, subconsciously shoving his hands into his pockets. As he walks to his locker, his mind wanders again—back to his "uncle" and the doppelganger and the words it spoke. He recalls the sickly feeling he experienced. Why is it messing with him today of all days?
He starts to text his mom as he leaves the school premises, talking about what's happened to him and what he's seen. To him, she's the only one he can talk to about this.
"Hey, had a situation. I had to come home from practice early. Need a talk."
It doesn't take but a minute or so for his mom to come back with a response. "Okay. Are you feeling alright?"
"Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little bit shaken."
After she gives a couple of encouraging words and a reminder to do his chores when he gets home, Rylan slides his phone back in his pocket. His walking is slow, and he has his head down as if averting his eyes from the rest of the world. But regardless of where he looks, there's always someone there...
For a split second, Rylan can see the faces of students walking past him, or what's supposed to be their faces. All he can see are eyes. He tries not to look, until...
"Rylan!" the voice of Mika and the warmth of a hand on his arm wakes him up from another panic attack. "...Are you...okay? Yes?"
Rylan flinches for a minute as if the feeling of anything touching him is scalding. "What?"
"You look tired. Sleepy?"
Rylan shakes his head. "...I'm not feeling too good right now...I'm headed home for the day. Taking a nap..."
Mika puffs out her cheeks in annoyance. "Lazy..."
Rylan rubbed his eyes. "Well, when you live my life, catching a break is hard. Especially with practice, school, and..." he gestures towards his bandage. "this..."
Mika looks intently at the bandage as if asking what's under it. "What?"
Rylan tenses a bit. "I—....I can't tell you. I told you. You don't want to deal with this."
Mika's eyebrows furrow and she nods her head. It seems she does want to deal with this.
Rylan looks around again, over his left and right shoulder. When he sees all the students in the distance, he sighs. Screw it, he needs to vent to someone. Anyone will do at this point.
"You can't tell anyone. And I mean it. If more people know this thing exists, my entire family is screwed. Okay, Mika?"
Mika seems a bit concerned but still nods.
Rylan's hand trembles a bit as he raises it to his face. "Don't freak out. Just don't bring any attention around here."
Mika nods again. "Just show. I won't scream."
Rylan trembles again...but still, the bandage comes off.
The purple orb of the eye comes into view as it blinks and looks around. True to her word, she doesn't scream, she just stiffens a bit and clenches her fists.
"Before you ask," Rylan interrupts, "yes, it's real. It can blink...move, hell, it can even see if it wants to show me something."
"What...is it?" Mika asks, almost reaching out. "Is it...mutation?"
"Nah, I wish it was. It's something way worse." He shakes his head. "It's a—"
Suddenly, he stops, as if he forgot what he was saying. He tries to talk again, but his lips and jaws...they're not budging. He looks up and around the area, as if expecting to see something, and lo and behold he can. And while Mika can't see it, he certainly can.
His doppelganger is right behind Mika, in fact using her head as a headrest. It wags a finger at Rylan with a taunting look. It knows he can't tell her anything now. "Go home, Rylan. Mom's waiting for you. No use in telling outsiders....you know it makes it worse."
...Rylan doesn't try to explain further, he just bolts in the direction of his house, leaving Mika behind. He pushes past other pedestrians and weaves through idle cars as he dashes through the bustling city streets. He's trembling when he reaches his family home, and he can't even hold onto the key long enough to unlock the door. After fumbling with the key for a moment, he slams the door open and runs inside.
...The moment is quiet, aside from his grandma, sitting on the couch and watching TV.
Nana Lori was sitting in her usual spot, in her oversized chair in front of the TV. She's usually hard of hearing, so it looks like she didn't hear him fumbling with the door key or screaming his lungs out. He manages to push his lips open, just enough to speak. "Nana..." he mumbled. "It's happening again..."
Her glasses seem to gloss over from the TV lights in front of her. Is she even awake right now? Rylan thinks to himself.
He takes a few more steps forward before calling out to her again, not trying to scare her. "Nana..."
He hears a snort and the sound of his grandma adjusting herself in her chair. "Rylan, is that you? What's wrong with your lips, boy? Can't you speak louder than that?"
Rylan sighs through his nose. "Curse...stuff. Can't talk."
Nana Lori motions for him to come closer. "Let Nana see."
Of course, he comes a little bit closer, even leaning down a bit to get face-to-face with her.
She looks at his face for a minute, before hitting him over the head softly with her hand. "Of course, you can't speak. You said something you shouldn't have, didn't you? Said something to someone outside the family?"
Rylan winces in guilt. "Sorry...it came out faster than I could think."
Nana Lori sighs in exasperation. "It doesn't like that, and you know it. If it thinks you're trying to get any help, it's gonna make sure you don't. And punish you for trying, on top of that." she explains. "This is why we can only help ourselves, Ry. Asking is just going to make it worse."
Rylan sighs, too. "Can I get it off? Please?"
Nana Lori stops to think for a minute, readjusting in her chair again. "...There's gotta be one trick...I haven't seen it in a hot minute though..."
Moments pass as she tries to find the "solution" to Rylan's problem. Afterward, she points towards the ceiling, where the attic is. "Try in my chest...lots of things about the curse in there."
He nods. "...Thanks, Nana."
"You're welcome. And no more talking about 'it'...okay?"
Rylan nods again, before going to find the attic.
He never liked the attic, the dust collecting up there and the stuffy scent of old wood always...unsettled him. From the time they moved into this house, the attic was the scariest room he'd ever been in.
When he was younger, and much less cautious than he was now, he went up into the attic while no one was watching, despite his mother's warnings. And once he got to the top, he saw it. A creature, thin, lanky, and tall. A silhouette, except for the singular eye and singular mouth seemed to smile with a predatory gleam. Tendrils of black surrounded its body, curling and slithering around like a serpent, beckoning him closer to the thing. Rylan even heard it try to speak to him, sickeningly sweet to try and entice him closer. He'd never close anything so fast in his life.
After that, he tried to avoid attics in general. However, right now, he's willing to take that chance... just this once. The attic stairs were just as claustrophobic as he struggled to get up there, but...somehow, he managed.
The room is festering with dust, as per usual. As he gets to his feet, he almost hits his head on one of the rafters. He's too big to be climbing through this tiny attic...
The floorboards groan underneath his weight, the age of the house showing through every step he takes. It's either that or the very outdated drapes that are blocking the light from the window.
It's not too hard to find the chest his Nana was talking about. It sits dead in the center, with light signs of wear around its brown exterior. The brass accents are faded, a deadish brown that doesn't glimmer anymore.
"Well..." he mutters, walking up to it.
There doesn't seem to be anything particularly wrong with the box. It just sits stagnant, waiting for someone to open it again after all these years. Rylan hesitates, afraid of what he might find in there, but, he pushes through again, unlocking the latch and pulling it open.
Inside are books, mostly versions of the Bible, and others, with faded titles he can barely read. There are also dried herbs, tied together with twine, drawings of eyes, large nails, and strangely enough, a homemade...doll?
He picks the doll up, to take a better look at it. It freaks him out. The straw of the doll has been painted black, except for a very familiar singular eye in the middle of the doll's face. It's the thing he saw as a kid but created as a small doll.
It looks like his family was trying everything in the book to get this curse out of the family. From religion to...other methods he'd rather not talk about right now. But none of it worked. Why?
That's when he noticed something at the bottom of the chest. A journal, the pages faded and yellowed. For some reason, he feels this one book, might be giving him the answers he needs. Stuffing the doll back in the chest, he pulls out this mysterious journal.
Despite its old age, it's still in good condition. He flips through it, expecting to see something like his grandma's diary from when she was his age or something normal like that. But as he stops skimming through, and starts reading...he gets a different story.
Different rituals they've tried...and home remedies. It's almost like a... guidebook for being part of the Banks family.
He keeps flipping, and flipping...until he finds something about some sort of "lockjaw curse".
If you speak too much about the curse, it will punish you, the entry says. You have angered it, and your punishment is silence.
Then, it gives a sort of recipe, a mixture of herbs that you place on your lips, and the tar will let you go. The herbs soothe its anger. For now.
There are a few handfuls of herbs in the chest, but he doesn't know the difference between them anyway. It all looks like the same dried plant...they just have a slightly different smell to them. He brings one of the bundles up to his nose and sniffs it, only to flinch away from it. "Damn..." he mutters, the smell of the herb burning his nose.
Slowly, however, the darkness begins to loosen from his lips, and he can breathe easily again. The tar seems to have dislodged itself from his throat. He coughs from the lingering burn of the herbs, but other than that, he's back to normal, or...as normal as he can be.
"I'll...keep that in mind," he mutters, looking at the bundle of herbs and the journal. He picks the journal back up, closes it back, and places it in his pocket.
"Time to get the hell out of this attic..." he turns and crawls his way out of the attic.
He makes sure to close the attic door as soon as he's back on ground level. As soon as he feels safe, he pulls it back out again, skimming through most of the journal. Some of it is legible. But some seem to be...blurry, smudged. Maybe the person writing this was in a panic.
He keeps flipping. Eventually, there are fewer words...more pictures. Pictures of what he's seen.
The same eye, the long, skeletal, lanky body...even the tendrils that surround its body. It seems to have a name, but the letters are so smudged and scratchy he can't make it out...The word starts with what looks like an "I" or a "J", but he just can't tell.
Rylan yawns...All this learning about his curse thing has got him tired...he'll worry about it tomorrow. He always does.
He trudges to his room. After stuffing the journal into his bag, he drops like a sack of potatoes into his bed, wrapping himself up in the blanket. He's too tired. He just wants to take a nap before dinner. That's all.
He's obviously paranoid, and that's keeping him up. He wants answers, a solution of some kind. Maybe he'll figure it out after a tiny nap.
Just a tiny nap...
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