We have another guest writer!! Yay!

Rachel Weaver is a 23 year old Minnesota resident that has enjoyed the horror genre since the age of 5. When she’s not being seen watching Hereditary for the 100th time or scrolling through her Shudder account, she could be found writing at coffee shops, thinking about theater with her boyfriend or playing with her two cats. She has been an aspiring writer since finding her niche with horror writing at the start of the pandemic. She posts weekly on her Wattpad account when she has time and is thinking about hitting up CreepyPasta at some point. Happy Haunts guys and ghouls 👌

He had not seen her since they had left high school. Yet here she was now. Standing on
the other side of the railroad tracks that acted as borders around Jonathan’s town.
Jonathan stared in awe and confusion at the beautiful woman also known as Jeanette
Peters. She was, as his classmates called her, a knock out. She had a perfectly proportioned face
which came complete with a small nose, perfect sized, plump lips, high cheekbones, and large
icy blue eyes so sharp it can slice a man in two. A man like Jonathan Druthers.


And they had.

Looking at Jeanette didn’t fill Jonathon’s stomach with fluttering monarchs and dandelion
wishes, but rather with pins and needles.


Jeanette was part of the “popular crowd” back in the days when Jonathan had to submit to
an obnoxiously loud bell and carry absurd amounts of reading material wherever he went. But,
Jeanette only added to Jonathon’s pain in high school. She would join in with the others when
they mocked and bullied Jonathan.


When Jonathan tried to confess his love to Jeanette, recounting how close they were
when they were children living on the same block, she shot him with those penetrating eyes and
just walked away with a jock wrapping his buff arm her skinny waist.

One event stuck with out in his mind the most. Like a sore thumb throbbing from a
hammer being dropped upon it. It was the day when he almost died because of Jeanette.
He tried so hard to suppress the memory, to let it past as he so often did with many of his past
teenage antics. But, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
Staring into Jeanette’s icy gaze, the memory flashed through his mind.

He was only 16, desperate for friends, and had an ass wider than the Grand Canyon.
Jon winced. Just thinking about his former size was enough to make him sick with dread.
It was a crisp fall day, and Jon was bombarded by a couple of Jeanette’s henchmen, also known
as a couple of jocks, that asked him where he was going and that they would keep him company
along the way.

There was a lot of things wrong with Jonathan at that time, but being dumb was not one
of them. He knew all too well that this would either end with a bloody nose or some kind of
bruise. He was some kind of walking punching bag to these guys and he just accepted that.
He accepted that he was what everyone said he was.

Nothing.

Everything else was just a blur to Jonathan, but what his mind couldn’t recall, his senses
could.

He tasted the salty, iron sensation of blood in his mouth. He felt the scars on his thighs
and stomach burn intensely than ever before. Even after twenty years, the scars still stung and
throbbed from time to time. Whoever said that scars healed over time was so full of it.
The worst thing to come over him though was the ringing in his ears. His Tinnitus was
acting up though there wasn’t a loud sound anywhere near him.

But now, locking his eyes with Jeanette, he felt everything. It was her. I was all her fault.

“What!?”, he shouted, a little hoarse and wary, “what do you want!?”

Jeanette didn’t move. Her eyes still staring.

Then she grinned. Which unsettled Jonathan. Her grin was enough to make even the most
ferocious creature turn tail and run.

He shook off his trance once more and moved closer to her, parking himself on the other
side of the train tracks.

“I don’t understand.”, he muttered, starting to shake, “you’re not suppose to be here.” For
the first time since he first spotted her, he noticed that Jeanette’s feet were hovering over the
ground, defying the law of gravity.

“I killed you.” He said at last, “I killed you so many years ago. How is this possible.”
Jeanette still said nothing. After a few moments of silence, a laugh started to rise from the depths
of her stomach to finally out of her mouth, making Jonathon fall back on the tracks. He let out a
yell of pain, screaming out for help that would be miles away from where he laid. His ears ringed
louder than ever before, making it impossible to hear anything else but the high pitched rings. He
tried to get up but he couldn’t move a muscle. He was paralyzed to the tracks as if he was tied to
them. He felt constricted to them more as Jeanette floated to him.

Jonathan started to cry. Ugly cry. Hollering and pleading for Jeanette’s forgiveness. Until
she was looking down at him, her gaze figuratively slamming his jaws shut. His smile had grown
wider. Unnaturally wider. So wide that it’d make the Cheshire cat swivel up and hide out of sheer
terror.

All Jonathon could still hear was the ringing coming from his own ears. But he felt
something. He felt the train tracks shiver and vibrate, making his scars burn and his heart raced.
He knew… he knew a train was coming.

Jeanette knew, too, as she turn her head to glance at the oncoming monstrosity making
the tracks batter Jonathon’s back more.

She turned her head back to Jonathan sharply. At the same time, Jonathon’s ears stopped
ringing. Now all he heard was the train and his heavy breathing.

He knew he didn’t have much time, so quickly spit out all that he could think to say.

“I’m sorry”, he said, whimpering.

Jeanette’s expression was blank until she finally said, “I’m not.” Then she vanished,
leaving Jonathan as the train rushed in

One thought on “Old Flame – Rachel Weaver

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