The Curse of Bones

Jenna Santos's POV:

The next morning, Keegan Wilkerson's seat was empty. It was the first thing I noticed.

Ms. Harrison made the announcement: "Keegan is out sick today with a high fever." Her tone was flat, trying to downplay the unsettling absence.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Keegan. The first one to touch the bone.

Whispers rippled through the students. "Did you hear about Keegan?" "They say he has a bad fever, but my mom heard it's way worse."

An atmosphere of fear began to spread through the classroom.

I connected all the dots. Keegan's bravado. The bone. The dream. Mr. Mason's story. The Counter's tally... It wasn't a fever. It was the curse. It had begun.

A lingering sense of anxiety weighed heavily on my chest. I couldn't focus on class at all. Every passing minute felt agonizingly slow. Every tick of the clock brought me one step closer to something horrific.

After school, I decided I had to see him.

I grabbed my backpack and headed straight for Keegan's house.

Keegan's dad, Butler Wilkerson, opened the door. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot and entirely drained of energy.

The house was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight. The air inside was stale and oppressive.

A strange scent lingered in the air. It smelled like rot trying to be masked by some floral fragrance. It made my nose wrinkle. The smell was familiar, yet deeply unnerving.

Keegan was lying in bed. He looked emaciated, his face flushed and his eyes wide but unfocused. He was clearly delirious, muttering something under his breath.

The town doctor stood by the bed, holding a clipboard, looking utterly baffled.

"It's a persistent viral infection," the doctor said. "Accompanied by a high fever. We're doing everything we can."

Butler Wilkerson sighed. "His grandmother wants to try some old home remedies. Herbs, salves..."

The doctor cut him off. "Mr. Wilkerson, we rely on proper medicine, not folk remedies."

The doctor scribbled something on his prescription pad. "Keep him hydrated. Continue the fever reducers. Monitor his temperature." He handed the slip to Butler.

Before leaving, the doctor paused and looked at Keegan's hand. "Did he injure his hand?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He had noticed something unusual.

Butler looked at Keegan's hand. "No, not that I know of. Why?" He looked perplexed.

"There are marks. A bit like scratches, or old scars," the doctor replied. "They're very... peculiar." He shook his head, seemingly troubled by the anomaly.

The doctor left, taking his unexplainable discovery with him.

Butler stepped out of the room for a moment.

It was just Keegan and me left in the room. An unspeakable dread hung in the air. As the afternoon wore on, the room grew darker.

Keegan kept muttering—a hoarse, low, and relentless sound.

I leaned in closer to make out the words. But what he was mumbling sent ice water through my veins.

"One... two... three..." he whispered. "Four... five... six..." His voice was slurred, repetitive. He was counting!

Just like in my dream!

My heart was hammering.

"Keegan?" I reached out and grabbed his arm. I shook him gently. I tried to pull him back to reality.

He seemed to gain a brief moment of clarity, looking at me with unfocused eyes. "Jenna," he croaked, "it hurts. In the dream. Like something's pulling at me, pulling at the numbers."

"The dream," he continued, his voice incredibly weak. "I'm in the dark, counting. He makes me count. He tells me I have to finish it."

Finish? Finish what?

I stared at his hand.

His fingers were twitching slightly. He was tapping his fingers lightly, rhythmically against the bedsheets.

He was counting. Even in his delirium.

And then I saw them. Faint, dark scratches on his fingers. They were exactly like the carvings on the bone!

Tiny, shallow lines. Deliberate.

They looked like miniature tally marks.

The curse. It was undeniably real. And it was manifesting right on his flesh.

I was paralyzed with terror, my mouth open but unable to speak.

Butler walked back into the room. Seeing me staring at Keegan's hand, he followed my gaze. His eyes widened as he saw the marks, and all the color drained from his face.

"What is that?" Butler exclaimed. He looked from Keegan's hand to me, clearly terrified.

"Those weren't there before," he insisted. "I swear. If they had been, I would have seen them."

The marks had appeared out of nowhere.

My mind was spinning.

Grandma was right. Mr. Mason was right. It wasn't a virus. It was something ancient. Something evil. Something far beyond the realm of science.

It was the curse of The Counter! It had come. It was really here!