This is 1994.
And I'm Jayce Whitman.
It's been two weeks since I woke up in this body. Two weeks since I realized I wasn't dreaming, hallucinating, or losing my mind at least not entirely.
It's July 4, 1994.
I'm thirteen years old.
Goddamn it. Thirteen.
I still hate thinking about that part.
The incident happened on July 2.
Which means it's already started.
Caleb Reed has disappeared.
No body. No witnesses. Just gone.
I exhale slowly, staring at the fireworks pamphlet lying on my bedroom desk. Red, white, and blue. Smiling kids. A happy town pretending nothing is wrong.
Tsk.
Tiffany Reed will start looking for her brother soon. She always does. She refuses to accept the police's "he probably ran away" excuse. She'll dig, ask questions, and drag the others with her.
Lila Moore.
Noah Carter.
And Derek.
Derek, who survives for a while… then dies later in the novel.
And Tiffany.
I still can't believe Tiffany dies in the end.
Tsk.
She was the smartest one. The leader of the club. The only one who didn't panic when things went wrong.
Stupid ending.
I lean back on my chair and rub my face.
Fine. Enough whining. Let's review the real problem.
The Main Antagonist
Name:
The Grinner
Aliases:
The Smiling Monster
Grayhaven's Disaster
Appearance:
A pale, featureless face with a wide, permanent smile that never reaches its eyes.
Eyes that look hollow like they reflect fear instead of light.
Its form isn't stable. Sometimes it looks human. Sometimes… not.
That uncertainty is intentional. It disorients people. Makes them doubt what they saw.
It doesn't always appear directly.
Mirrors.
Shadows.
The corner of your vision.
That's where it likes to live.
It moves wrong.
Too fast.
At impossible angles.
Like space itself bends for it.
Now here's the important part.
Right now, the Grinner is unintelligent.
Not stupid restricted.
The seal is still holding it back. The bindings are still in place. It hunts on instinct, not strategy.
But the more it feeds
The more children it takes.
The freer it becomes.
The smarter it becomes.
And that is the terrifying part.
Because its real power isn't strength.
It's manipulation.
Illusions.
Hallways that stretch too long.
Doors that lead somewhere else.
Rooms that rearrange themselves.
It induces fear. Hallucinations. Déjà vu. Memory gaps.
And fear is food.
The more afraid you are, the stronger it gets.
The more you believe the illusion is real, the deeper it traps you.
That's why the only real way to kill it is with the relic.
Was with the relic.
Which is gone.
Because the characters were idiots.
Except Tiffany.
My beautiful girl Tiffany leader of the club, voice of reason, the one who actually understood what was happening.
And she still died.
I click my tongue.
There is a weakness, though.
The Grinner becomes vulnerable when it's overexposed. When it's confronted with something real, something it can't twist or rewrite.
Truth.
Raw, undeniable truth.
It hates that.
I stare at my reflection in the window.
So now the question is
How do I approach them?
Do I pretend to know nothing and let the story play out?
Do I act like some mysterious kid who "figures things out"?
Do I warn them early and risk changing everything too fast?
I already know the answer.
The story is fragile now.
And the moment I move, it's going to push back.
I grin faintly.
"…Guess I'll find out how much it hates spoilers."
….
Next day
Tiffany Reed stood on the street, her short blond hair stirring in the summer breeze. Her blue eyes searched every face that passed her, sharp with worry.
"Have you seen my brother?" she asked.
People shook their heads. Some avoided her gaze. Others offered quiet apologies.
Nothing.
Tiffany clenched her fists.
(My brother…) she thought. (He's not the type to run away. Something's wrong. There has to be a clue.)
A hesitant voice broke the silence.
"Um…"
Tiffany turned.
A girl stood a few steps away brown, curly hair framing her pale face, green eyes darting nervously.
"Lila Moore?" Tiffany said.
Lila swallowed. "I… I saw him."
Tiffany's heart jumped. She grabbed Lila's shoulders.
"Where?" she demanded.
"Ah—!" Lila flinched.
Tiffany released her immediately. "Sorry."
She studied the girl more carefully.
(Lila Moore…) Tiffany thought. (They say she's weird. Always muttering to herself.)
Lila's voice trembled. "I heard it… the voice like he was taken by something. I… I don't know what it was."
Tiffany frowned. "What? What do you mean, taken?"
"I—I d—"
Lila suddenly turned and ran.
"Wait!" Tiffany shouted.
Without hesitation, Tiffany chased after her, her instincts screaming that whatever Lila knew was the key to finding her brother.
And that the truth was far worse than she was ready for.
They hadn't gone far when someone noticed them.
"Hey, look who it is."
A boy stepped out from the side of the street, blocking their path. He was taller than them, broad-shouldered, with a smug grin carved into his face.
Jarren Creed.
"The freak, Lila Moore." Jarren sneered.
Lila shrank back instinctively.
Jarren's gaze shifted, and his grin faltered.
"Ti—ti fan—ny?"
Of course he recognized her.
Tiffany Reed was popular. Athletic. Top of her class. The kind of girl even bullies hesitated around.
Tiffany crossed her arms. "What are you doing here, Jarren Creed?"
"N-nothing," he said quickly, forcing a laugh. "Just teasing Li…Lila."
Before Tiffany could respond, Lila stiffened.
Her eyes widened.
"…This voice," Lila whispered. "It's here."
Both of them turned to her.
"This is where I heard him."
Tiffany frowned. "What?"
Lila pointed with a shaking hand.
The sewer.
A rusted grate sat at the edge of the street, dark water trickling beneath it. The smell of damp concrete and rot drifted upward.
Tiffany followed Lila's gaze.
"Here?" she said slowly.
Jarren scoffed. "What do you mean, voice? What is this?"
Tiffany didn't look at him
.
"Shut up for a second." she said.
The air felt heavier near the sewer.
Too quiet.
And somewhere below, something smiled.
Tiffany swallowed and looked at Lila.
"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.
Lila nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. "I heard him here…"
Jarren let out a sharp laugh. "I said…What do you mean, voices?"
He stepped closer to the sewer, peering down at the rusted grate.
"You really are a freak, Lila."
The moment the word left his mouth, the air shifted.
The sound of dripping water grew louder. Too loud.
Lila's breath hitched. "Don't…"
Jarren leaned forward.
And from below the grate, something laughed.
Soft. Wet.
Not human.
Tiffany's eyes widened.
"Jarren," she said slowly, "step back."
The sewer went silent.
Then—
A smile reflected in the dark water.
Jarren frowned.
"…Did you hear that?"
"What?" Tiffany asked sharply.
Jarren straightened, trying to laugh it off. "Nothing. Probably just water or—"
His voice echoed back at him.
(hear that?)
Jarren froze.
"That wasn't me." he said.
The sound came again, closer this time. Softer. Mocking.
(—wasn't me—)
Lila clutched her head.
"It's doing it," she whispered. "It's copying."
Jarren's grin cracked. "Stop messing around."
He took another step toward the sewer.
The smell hit him rotting leaves, damp metal… and something sweet underneath. Wrong.
Then the voice changed.
"Jarren."
He stiffened.
No one had said his name.
"…Tiffany?" he asked, not turning around.
She didn't answer.
The sewer water rippled.
A shape appeared in the reflection, too tall, too thin, smiling far too wide.
Jarren's breath quickened. "This isn't funny."
The reflection blinked.
He didn't.
"You called her a freak." the voice said softly from everywhere.
Jarren stumbled back. "Shut up!"
The smile widened.
Fear poured off him in waves hot, raw, delicious.
The street bent.
The sewer stretched deeper than it should have, darkness folding inward like a throat.
Jarren's hands shook. "I—I'm not scared."
The thing laughed.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, so loud he didn't hear Tiffany shout his name.
Lila screamed.
"LOOK AT ME!" Tiffany yelled.
Jarren snapped his eyes away from the sewer
And the world slammed back into place.
The street was normal again. The sewer was just a sewer.
Jarren collapsed onto his knees, gasping.
The laughter faded.
Hungry.
Unfinished.
Tiffany grabbed Jarren by the collar and hauled him back.
Lila was crying.
She sank to the ground, hands over her ears, rocking back and forth.
Tiffany didn't look away from Jarren.
She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back from the sewer.
"What happened?" she demanded.
Jarren's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
His eyes were wide, unfocused, like he was still staring into something only he could see.
"Jarren," Tiffany said sharply. "What happened?"
Still nothing.
Her grip tightened.
"I said, what happened!" she shouted.
Jarren's lips trembled.
A sound escaped him half breath, half sob but no words followed.
His throat worked like it was locked.
Like something had its fingers wrapped around his voice.
Tiffany's anger faltered.
She let go slowly.
"…Lila," she said, lowering her voice, "what's going on?"
To be continue