Singed House (Patreon)

"I think we should head back! There's nothing here." Austin shouted from downstairs. He was scared of course, Cory thought. Wuss. "Just give me a minute!" he yelled back. While all of downstairs were to varying degrees damaged by the fire, hot gasses, soot, and everything the fire department threw at it, this part of the building was relatively unharmed. The scent of burnt belonging still clung to his nostrils, though faint now so long after it happened. You could almost see how the accident happened. Tyler had been smoking in the living room, no doubt watching TV. Then somehow the room had caught fire. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep with a lit cigarette. Then both he and his mum, sleeping upstairs, had died. She had died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Cory wasn't sure what Tyler's cause of death was. It was never in the papers, perhaps because he was still a minor, if that mattered once you're dead.

There was the silent minute at school, but no one was really sad. Not that Cory knew anyway. Tyler had been one year older, so they had mostly been out of each other's ways, but Tyler was a known troublemaker. And now Cory was in his bedroom. What was left of it anyway. They had some relatives on the other side of the country, but with so much else Covid had thrown sand in everyone's plans. Sheriff Colman had collected the valuables and the house had been left to rot for more than half a year now.

Seeing the house now it was evident that more people had been having a rummage around. Most of the stuff downstairs was ruined, but up here there wasn't any visible damage on the furniture. The room was a mess though. Not that Cory kept his room especially tidy, but someone had emptied all Tyler's drawers on the floor, the sheets were ripped from the bed, and the wardrobe had been emptied out in the mix as well. A bright, neon-colored sweatshirt caught his eye. He remembered he had seen Tyler wearing it at school, and somehow he felt really bad recognizing it. Austin was right. They shouldn't be here going through dead people's belongings. Something hit him hard in the back and he fell face first into a pile of clothes. It smelled of smoke.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Cory rolled over on his back only to see Tyler standing over him, cigarette smoldering in his mouth. A feeling of dread filled Cory, as he had never felt it before. There wasn't really anything that should be that terrifying. The room looked like any teenage boy's room, albeit a bit messier. It was a sunny autumn day and the sun was shining in through the window. In front of him was a boy that looked like any other boy his age, perhaps a bit more rebellious with his outfit and piercings. He looked as alive as ever, yet all Cory could think of was screaming for help.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Nothing but hot air escaped him when he tried. A silent exhale.

"This is Tyler's room and you don't look like Tyler, do you? He's got a plug here for one thing," Tyler said and squeezed Cory's earlobe hard. It hurt real bad, but Cory almost didn't care. There was something so terrifying about the room. He needed to leave. He needed to run away.

"And a ring here," Tyler continued and squeezed the other ear between his fingernails so hard Cory thought he would bleed. It was like the air was heavy, like it weighed him down. He couldn't get up from the floor. "And here." Tyler pinched Cory's nostril. He inhaled deeply from the lit cigarette and exhaled in Cory's face. "You look nothing like him at all," he said and flicked the cigarette into Cory's mouth.

"Aaaa! Fuck!" Cory shouted and spit out the cigarette into a pile of socks. His mouth tasted like ash and tar. He coughed. Austin burst into the room shouting "What are you doing?" He stopped in his tracks in the doorframe and his eyes widened as he saw Cory. "That dickhead shoved a lit cigarette into my mouth," Cory wheezed back with a hoarse voice. It felt like he had inhaled smoke and had a cough stuck that he couldn't quite get out. Austin's face drained of all color. "Where's Cory?" he almost whispered, frozen in place. "The fuck you mean? I'm Cory. Where did he go?" Cory said and began finding solid footing in the pile of clothes to stand up. Only then did he notice the navy hoodie and matching sweatpants he was wearing. Not at all what he was wearing earlier when he entered the house. He quickly reached for his earlobe, still sore from the squeezing, and felt the round plug sitting there. "Fuck!"

"Prove it!"
"What?"
"You look like Tyler. You sound like Tyler."
"You're really shitty at playing druid, Austin."
"Fuck! You are Cory."

Cory bent down and picked up his phone from the floor. He must have dropped it as he was knocked forward. He unlocked it and turned on the camera in selfie mode.

"Holy fucking shit!" he said, turning his head in different directions to see different views.
"Yeah..."
"I can't go back home! What would I say?"
"How did it happen? You said someone was here."
"I... I don't know. It looked like Tyler, but it someone felt evil."
"A ghost? A demon?"
"Since the factual knowledge in either is zero, I have no idea and don't think it matters."
"You can't stay here either then. It might come back and do something worse."
"Worse how?" Cory was feeling himself under the T-shirt and realized he actually had abs now, which kind of contradicted what he had just said.
"You're alive, aren't you?"

Cory looked around the room. At least he had clothes that fit.
"You think there are any cigarettes around?"
"Why? You don't smoke."
"I really, really do now."