The dead witness

The morning sun shined slowly through the woods, its rays piercing between the branches, scattering across the forest floor. The light struck the face of a young man named John causing him to wince, groaning softly as he slowly sat upright.

John swiftly examined himself. No injuries. No blood. No visible evidence of what had led him there. Confusion gnawed at him, he struggled to piece his memories together, how had he ended up in the woods?

John's heart jolted at a sudden snap of twig from behind him. Startled, he leapt to his feet and dashed frantically, running through the trees until the familiar sight of his neighborhood emerged. As he spotted his friend, relief surged through.

"Tonia!" he shouted, beaming as he waved his arms. "Tonia!!"

She didn't even glance his way and walked past him.

Puzzled, his gaze followed behind her and he called again, louder. Still nothing. Convinced she just might've been lost in her thoughts, John ran the rest of the way home, a surge of excitement tingling in his eyes as he made his way through the door.

His parents sat at the dining table. Their faces drained of color and filled with despair—their bodies heavy with grief.

"Mom? Dad?" John called, stepping closer.

No response.

He reached out and tapped his mother's shoulder. "Mom, I'm back."

Still nothing.

Confusion turned to dread. He looked to his father. "Dad?"

Neither moved nor spoke.

A course of chill moved through John's chest. What the hell is going on?

From the staircase came the sound of weary footsteps. His younger sister, Lucia, trudged down, her face pale with tears.

"Lucia!" he called with relief in his voice.

She didn't turn, she Instead went straight to their parents, her voice cracked in anguish as she spoke through sobs. "There's still no news about John."

Her mother surrounded her with her arms embracing her, both of them breaking down into tears.

John staggered back, trembling. "I don't understand… I'm right here! Mom! Dad! Lucia!"

Nothing still.

His breath trembled as he stared at his hands. "Am I… dead?" The thought sliced through him like a knife. He shook his head desperately. "No. No, this has to be a dream."

Panicked, he fled the house, his feet moving fiercely, running until the school came into view.

He swerved through the crowded hallway, but no one flinched at his approach.

Then, his gaze fell on Charlie. His best friend.

"Charlie!" John sprinted towards him, desperately. But Charlie kept walking, deep in conversation with another student.

They halted by a locker and John hovered near, close enough to hear.

"We need to find John ourselves," Charlie said, his voice heavy with pain. "The police are too slow."

"No. That's too dangerous," the other replied. "His killer could still be out there."

John froze. The word. Killer? Hit him like a heavy pang, the world stopped. His blood ran cold.

He staggered away, horror coiling his gut like a chain inside him. I'm dead…? Panic gripped his chest tight as his mind grasped for answers.

How did I die? Who killed me? Why can't I remember what happened?

Then a realization hit him. My body. I need to find my body.

He plunged back into the woods where he'd first awakened, searching frantically through brush and hollow, scraping through soil until exhaustion waved over him.

As night came, he collapsed to his knees, drenched in sweat, his clothes scattered with mud.

"Why me?" His voice cracked. "Who did I offend?"

Sobs shook his chest as he clutched at himself.

And then—footsteps.

Snapping branches as it approached.

John swiftly crouched behind a fallen log. His eyes widened when he recognized the figure. Kendrick, his classmate. A quiet boy his age, carrying a shovel and a bulky bag.

Dread settled in John's stomach as he watched Kendrick move deeper into the woods. With hesitant steps, John followed.

Kendrick set down the bag and shovel, surveyed his surroundings nervously, then crouched down and brushed away a pile of leaves by a tree.

And there it was.

John's body.

John's pupils dilated, terror seizing him. He clamped his hands over his mouth to contain the scream that was about to erupt in his throat.

Kendrick… killed me?

Memories came flooding his mind in jagged flashes.

Kendrick, the former perfect student. The top of the class. Then John transferred. Without trying, John had eclipsed him. Kendrick watched his friends drifted away from him. His mockery began after. Even at home, Kendrick's strict parents criticized him prompting more frustration in him. And when the girl he admired began showing interest in John, resentment ignited into hatred.

He became Lonely. Ridiculed. And the word. Failure. kept sounding through his head.

That was when he'd snapped.

John remembered the letter—penned as if written by his crush. The park near the woods where thy were supposed to meet. Waiting on the swing. Finding the written note: I'm over here. The eerie flashlight flashing in the trees to lure him.

And then, a sudden bone crushing pain to the skull. John stumbling to the ground, vision swirling. Kendrick standing over him, panting, eyes full of malice.

"K-Ken—"

Another plow. Another and another. Blood splattering. Darkness consumed.

John's breath gasped back into the present, staring at Kendrick digging relentlessly. The shovel slicing through the earth.

"I remember now…" his voice broke. "Kendrick murdered me."

Kendrick's shovel scraped the earth continuously. John knew he had to act. He grabbed a branch and snapped it, tossing the pieces to make a noise. Kendrick fell stiff, startled, scanning the shadows swiftly.

"What was that?" His voice trembled.

John's Heart raced as he held his breath.

After a tensed pause, Kendrick bent again to dig until a heavy branch above him cracked and fell, striking his wrist. He yelped in agony dropping the shovel and clutching his hand in pain.

Panic took over him. He abandoned the grave and fled, disappearing into the shadows, leaving everything behind.

John's breathe shook as he exhaled in relief. His eyes moved around to the disturbed soil where Kendrick had dropped his belongings, half-buried in the mud, his eyes fell stiff on Kendrick's mobile phone.

With trembling hands, John clawed it free but he couldn't grasp it properly, panting. He turned and got up running straight to Charlie's house.

———

He peeked through the window and saw his friend sitting in silence, his face reeked of agony.

"Charlie," John whispered.

Charlie flinched at the sound of the voice. He looked toward the window, opened it, and went pale, his face draining of color—seeing John's disheveled and muddy appearance. "John…?"

John's eyes widened in shock. "You can see me?"

"What do you mean?" Charlie stammered, in relief. "We've been searching for you everywhere—" He stepped forward, reaching for a hug, but his arms passed through John's body.

They both froze.

John's voice cracked, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Charlie… I'm dead."

Charlie staggered back in refusal, shaking his head violently. "No. No, that's not true. This is some kind of joke—"

"It was Kendrick." John interrupted his speech. "He killed me. And if we don't stop him, he'll bury my body. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow."

Charlie's breath choked, tears brimming down his cheeks. "Kendrick? That quiet guy? Why—why would he—"

"I need you to go to the police," John said firmly. "Tell them you might know where I am.”

Charlie swallowed hard, holding in his tears, he nodded.

Moments later, they were speeding toward the police station.

Charlie leapt from the car and rushed inside the station building, his words spilling out. "Officer! I think I know where John is and he's here with me!" Charlie's voice cracked with urgency.

The officer frowned, glancing around Charlie confused. "Kid, I think you need to head home, we’ll try our best to look for your friend."

"I'm serious! John's right here! If you don't act now, he'll be buried forever!" Charlie shouted, pointing toward where John stood, helpless.

The officer shook his head. Another came over. "What's happening?" He enquired concerned.

The first officer muttered, "This boy claims he can see his missing friend. I think he's imagining things."

———

Charlie had been sent home by the police, their disbelief an unclimbable wall. Worries gnawed at him as he sat in silence.

"John," he whispered. "What do we do now?"

John stood, his thoughts jumbled, searching for a plan. Finally, his voice came firm. "I'll lead you to my body. Kendrick's phone—it's still in the woods. That's our proof."

Charlie hesitated. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"We just have to try," John said, unwavering.

— — —

The two made their way back to the spot where John had first seen his corpse. The earth was disturbed, the air heavy with dread.

"He dropped it over there," John said, pointing toward the half-buried device.

Charlie dropped to his knees, scooping mud away until the phone slid free. Its screen lit up faintly as he smeared the mud off the surface. His hands trembled as he opened the gallery.

And then he froze. His breathe caught in his throat. On the screen was a photograph: a blood-stained sleeve. The same sleeve John had worn the day he disappeared.

With shaking fingers, Charlie scrolled. Another photo appeared, the letter John remembered finding at the swing: I'm over here.

Charlie turned to John, pale. "Do you see this?"

"That was the note," John whispered. "The trap that led me here."

Charlie sat heavily on the ground, dragging a hand through his hair. "This is enough evidence… So what now?"

John's gaze hardened. "We call the police with his phone."

Charlie nodded, swallowing hard, and dialed the emergency number. He held the receiver out toward John.

John leaned close, forcing every ounce of willpower into his voice.

<//: buzz buzz/// woods at Strad's Forth playground///>

The words cut through a haze of static, distorted but audible.

The officer on duty paused, frowning into his coffee. The voice was faint, but the words were there. He remembered the boy from earlier, Charlie, claiming his missing friend was "with him." A chill crept into his chest.

Moments later, he was rushing to the deputy, insisting they mobilize a search party immediately.

— — —

Back in the woods, Charlie lowered the phone. "Do you think that worked?"

"I don't know," John admitted.

A sharp snap echoed from the shadows. Both froze.

"What was that?" Charlie whispered, scanning the darkness.

Fear churned in John's stomach. "Hide," he hissed.

They ducked behind a tree just as a beam of light cut through the trees.

Kendrick emerged, a flashlight in hand, eyes wild as he searched the ground. He was back for his phone.

Charlie's grip tightened around the device in his pocket. Rage ignited in him as the memory of the photos burned into his mind. He couldn't hold back.

His Adrenaline rushed in, he burst from hiding and charged.

"CHARLIE, NO!" John screamed, reaching out uselessly.

Charlie slammed into Kendrick, fists flying, his voice raw with grief and fury. "You bastard! You killed him! You killed my best friend!"

Kendrick cried out under the blows, scrambling, until his hand closed around the fallen flashlight. With a desperate swing, he cracked it against Charlie's head.

"No!" John's cry split the night.

Charlie collapsed, clutching his bleeding temple, groaning in pain. Kendrick staggered to his bag, rummaging frantically, and pulled out a hammer.

John's chest tightened with terror. "Charlie, get up! If you die, it's over!" His voice broke as he screamed. "Charlie, please!"

Kendrick staggered closer, blood dripping from his nose, rage warping his face. "I won't let you ruin this for me."

Then, an earsplitting gunshot tore the air.

All three froze.

Red and blue lights washed over the trees as sirens wailed. Officers swarmed the clearing. The one from earlier aimed his gun, voice sharp. "Drop the weapon!"

Kendrick trembled, sweat streaking his face. He shook his head, muttering, "No… no, it can't end like this." In a final desperate lunge, he raised the hammer toward Charlie.

The officer fired again, this time into Kendrick's leg.

Kendrick screamed, collapsing to the dirt as the hammer clattered away. Officers rushed in, pinning him down, snapping cold steel around his wrists. His cries echoed through the trees as they dragged him toward the waiting cars.

Two others rushed to Charlie, lifting him to his feet. He swayed, dazed, blood streaking down his temple, but alive.

John’s body was found, covered with dried leaves near a big tree with shallow roots

Charlie followed the officers, but his red rimmed eyes remained at the spot where John’s body was discovered, trying to catch a glimpse of his dead friend, his traumatized eyes slowly moved to John as he dropped to his knees, laughter breaking through sobs. Relief surged through him like a tide. He tilted his face to the night sky, tears streaming.

the world slowed down and the voices of the officers faded into the background.

At last, justice was served, even though it didn’t bring him back to life. At least it was no longer just a dream.

—-