It was a Friday evening. School was over for the summer and I decided to start with my most favorite hobby. I grabbed a granola bar from the pantry. My parents were at work. They worked late in the hospital evening shifts. The letter I wrote to them saying I was going babysitting was brief. My gatorade I meant to bring was left behind. My bike was as smooth as a bite of cake riding down the hills of Fritter St. I got to the house. The kids were nowhere to be seen. The parents had already left. Thoughts sprinted back and forth through my head. I organized my thoughts of what was going on. I came up with this being a prank. I turned on the lights and called for Jason and Mark. A small squeak was heard. I went down to the creepy unfinished basement. I checked the whole house and found nothing. I assessed my knowledge on what to do during these situations. I called their names again. Not a clue where they were. I was about to pick up the phone to dial the parents number. I suddenly heard the door lock. I walked to the front door and heard footsteps. I freaked out and made it for the back door. The lights went off and the footsteps grew louder. The noise of the wind could have been heard from miles away. I heard “ Bang, Bang, Bang”


Two months later there was no sign of the boy. Articles were in the paper about Jason and Mark being spotted near the Clearwater River. Rumors were spread and tears were brought. No searching was done anymore for Jason, Mark, or the boy. His parents raised the boy by the name of Joe. He called himself Indie and so did his friends.



Only, 35 years later Jason, Mark, and Joe came out of the earths crust across the country. They looked at each other and frowned. A lightning shock came from the sky. The three boys took cover under a tree. Suddenly, “Bang, Bang, Bang” was heard and the story continues over and over again.